


Life through a lens.

by Justley



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Photographer, Excpect the rating to change with later chapters, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Photographer Daryl, Rated M for language, Slow Build, adopted Daryl, i know nothing about photography, model jesus, or models
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-08-20 06:02:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 48,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8238601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justley/pseuds/Justley
Summary: Daryl Dixon had a rough start in life at the hands of his abusive and neglectful parents but was saved from a life in the care system by his adoptive parents Sebastian and Victoria who just happen to be rich and famous. Daryl is happy with how his life has turned around but there's just one thing missing. He's never been in love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! 
> 
> So I wanted to write an AU for season 7 because, lets face it, this season is going to be disgustingly horrific for everyone and we will probably all need a cuddle after each episode. 
> 
> I had this idea ages ago and wrote a quick note about it then forgot about it for months. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I know literally diddly squat about photography fashion or modeling so I've used My good friend google to help me out with some things. 
> 
> ALSO I blatently used Norman and his art for inspiration and used the reviews he's received for this fic. 
> 
> I also spent far too much time on the internet doing 'research' which basically included looking at (and saving) far too many photos of Norman and Tom for image inspiration. 
> 
> I know what a shame right? 
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway. I hope you enjoy! 
> 
>  
> 
> (LONG LIVE DARUS!!)

Chapter one:

"Daryl, stop fidgeting, you don't need to be nervous." Sebastian Dixon is a famous fashion photographer based in LA with a sharp eye for fresh talent and a classic yet edgy style to his shoots. He is often praised in the media for his exquisite attention to unusual details and his ability to always capture the soul of a photo. His images aren't just a model wearing the newest designer logo, poised and pouting, they paint an intricate story of emotion and beauty, strength and radiance, they are edgy and inspiring, whimsical and wonderful. They say a picture paints a thousand words and Sebastian is writing novels with every click of his camera.

His latest spread for GQ has just hit the shelves and his phone has been ringing and chirruping with incoming calls and messages all morning, telling him how fabulous and awe inspiring it is, how he really captured Peter's charming personality and how they had no idea the Game of Thrones star could look so eerily stunning and perfectly menacing at the same time.

He's not thinking about that shoot now though, right now he's sitting in the back of his driver's car and failing in his attempt to stop his son from chewing his thumb down to the bone with nerves. His eyes are kind and warm when he looks at his son, still so very shy and reserved outside of their LA home but a real firecracker when he lets his guard down. He's so very proud of Daryl and the progress the young man has made since he first became a Dixon. Sebastian and his wife Victoria Dixon had adopted Daryl almost nine years ago. Daryl had been neglected by his drug addicted mother and regularly beaten by his alcoholic father, him and his brother, Merle, had been placed in the care system and had bad experience after bad experience. Merle would drink, do drugs, get into fights and steal pulling his younger brother down with him. At least until Merle had turned eighteen, left the system and Daryl behind. Sebastian knows that Daryl had been affected just as strongly by his brothers abandonment as his parents abuse, after all, the brothers had always had each other to rely on, they had protected each other, looked out for each other and comforted one another when their father got into a rage, so when Merle took off from the foster home on the eve of his eighteenth birthday leaving a ten year old Daryl behind to fend for himself, it had hit the youngster hard. He struggled to settle into the various foster homes, fought with the other kids that lived there and constantly played truant from school.

When Victoria and he had decided to adopt they knew they wanted to offer a home to an older child, someone they could save from a lonely life in the care system. They had no interest in adopting a baby or small child, there were always homes for the young ones but the older kids, the ones like Daryl, most people looking to adopt would pass him over, pegging him as trouble or already past the point of help. Not Sebastian though, he didn't just have an eye for the beauty of models, of film stars or photo sets, he had an eye for a persons soul and where he looked at a young Daryl, he didn't see a narrow eyed, glaring, hostile delinquent, he saw past that hardcase, closed off front, saw the emotional hurt behind it all, the quiet strength, the deep wish to be safe and loved and cared for. He saw the peace and beauty, the kindness, the gentleness and loyalty behind his eyes. He knew that Daryl was lost, abandoned to the world and all he needed was someone to grab hold of his hand and help him find his way.

Sebastian and Victoria had done just that. They had taken Daryl home, given him love, support and a safe, happy home. It hadn't been easy, especially in the beginning but they had become a loving family and when Merle had finally managed to land himself a long stint behind bars Daryl had asked his new parents to officially adopt him and he became Daryl Dixon son of a world famous photographer and a wildly talented interior designer to the rich and famous.

The fame of his new parents had never gone to the young Dixon's head however, he grew to be exactly what Sebastian had known he could be. Kind, sensitive, loving, strong and loyal. Daryl may have a terrifying temper when really pushed and a tongue that could give you whiplash but he was a beautiful soul. He was also an incredible photographer himself. It was one of the things that really helped to bond the new father and his son together in the beginning.

Sebastian had given Daryl his first camera shortly after they had brought him home, had taught his son how to search inside himself in order to pinpoint the beauty locked into his surroundings. Daryl had a real talent for it too, he was able to see the beauty in everything, the woods, the streets and back alleys, those living in the cities they frequented as they traveled with Sebastian's job. Daryl could capture the serenity on the faces of the down and desolate, saw a story behind every abandoned building and he had been so very proud of his son when he graduated college and held his very first art show.

The gallery had reported his work to be "Beautiful and terrifying, macabre and provoking, dark and sublime." Victoria had cried tears of joy for her son that night and Sebastian had thought his heart may burst with how proud he felt. Now his son was done with his education, Sebastian had begun to take Daryl along with him to his own shoots, introducing him to the right people in the industry, exposing him to the fashion society, trying to encourage him to battle his social anxiety whilst continuing to teach him the nuances of the craft.

So that is why Daryl is currently sat beside him in the backseat of the car, nervously chewing on the skin of his thumb as they navigate LA on the way to today's shoot.

"You've meet everyone there before Daryl and Glenn will be there too." He offers, knowing his son had become fast friends with the Korean kid who frequented the Dixon sets, running costumes, sets and props around. The two men could usually be found together during quiet moments, Glenn's sunny disposition brings the young Dixon out of his shell and helps him to feel more relaxed in a room full of bustling people.

"Sorry." Daryl says "Can't help it, Esquire's a big deal, y'sure I ain't gonna get in the way?" He mutters around the abused digit he continues to chew on.

"You know you're never in the way son, anyway I want you to take a few shots this time, now, don't look like that" he says chuckling lightly at the terrified look that flashes across his sons face, hidden again quickly behind those narrow guarded eyes. "I've already cleared it with the crew, I want to see your take on the subject, I think you'll enjoy it." He lets a smirk flash across his face for a moment. "Do you want to see his portfolio?" Sebastian asks as he searches inside his bag for the model's bound file before sliding it onto his sons lap.

"Ten minutes Mr. Dixon." The driver calls from the front seat.

"Thank you Spencer." He replies with a quick glance at his watch before turning back to his son "so? What do you think?" Daryl is softly thumbing though the photos splayed across the pages, chewing on his bottom lip this time but his eyes hold that gleam that Sebastian knows means his son has seen something beautiful he wants to capture.

"Mhm" was Daryl's reply but nothing more seemed to be forthcoming so Sebastian continued his attempt to draw his son out and calm his nerves.

"His name is Paul Rovia, he's 22 from Washington and he's already modeled for Diesel and H&M among others." They've arrived at the studios and the car pulls up along the sidewalk, before Spencer can reach his door Sebastian turns to see his son looking at him with bright eyes and a slight flush across his cheeks, fingers gripping tight along the edges of the folder and with a wide smile he adds "and I hear he's been offered a Calvin Klein contract too."

 

**********

 

Paul Rovia is awoken long before his alarm by the hot sun pouring though the wide windows heating up the bare skin across his back as he lay sprawled face down on his bed, arms and legs tangled up with one Miss Maggie Greene. He doesn't remember her getting into bed with him last night but its not the first time she's arranged a party at his place and ended up passed out in his bed. They'd been friends ever since the first time they had met at an Elle after party where she had spent one hour drinking with him and declared herself his new best friend and that's exactly what she had become.

Stretching slightly, he gently untangles the other model from around his body and covers her with a sheet before heading over to the wide windows and cracking one open to let the morning breeze in and the stale alcohol tinged air out. He allows himself a few moments of peace, enjoying the early morning sun across his cheeks before grabbing up his iphone from the dresser, clothes from the wardrobe and heads for the shower where, he mercifully finds the bathroom devoid of sleeping bodies.

He lets the warm water wash over him and thinks ahead to today's shoot. He's met Sebastian Dixon before in passing but never had the opportunity to be photographed by him before. He likes Dixon's work and the guy is friendly, open and approachable unlike other photographers he's met before. He remembers seeing an art show advertised at voila and had headed over thinking it would be interesting to see some of the mans work, only to find out that it was infact his sons show and not his. To describe that show as interesting would be an understatement. The younger Dixon was just as talented as his father and certainly had a unique style, dark and a little disturbing but amazing nonetheless. He pushes that thought to the back of his mind for now however, simply thinking that it would make for a good conversation when he meets the older Dixon later.

Finished with his shower, hair done and his go-to shoot clothes on, he makes his way though the apartment, stepping over the prone bodies of various other models and groupies alike, some he recognizes, most he doesn't. They are all sprawled over furniture and bundled together across the floors in their drunken slumber. None of them are people he considers to be friends, he finds in his line of work, people tend to be over the top or fake. He does however spot Tara and quietly moves to her. Now Tara, she certainly is someone he considers a friend, she had been part of the Maggie Greene package deal and he's been glad of that on more than one occasion. She's laying across the cuddle chair, tangled up in the arms of a rather beautiful long legged red head and he knows if Tara had not been sleeping she would've held out for a fist bump from him.

"Tara," he whispers, giving her a gentle nudge. "I'm out." He says as she opens one eye a tiny crack to peer at him. "Try and get this lot cleared out before i get back?"

She gives him a small nod before wrapping herself around Red and drifting back to sleep. He'll text her later, he thinks, and make sure her and Mags get the place cleaned up. He's got no problem with them using his apartment as a party house, it helps him deal with the loneliness that seeps in from time to time, as long as they tidy up after themselves.

His iPhone is screaming his favourite Eagulls album into his ear as he makes his way out of the apartment block and grabs himself his usual wheatgrass, peach and pineapple smoothie from his favourite juice bar just down the road and is just waiting to hop on the Metro when his phone rings.

"Paul Rovia!" He answers without checking the caller id.

"Hey Paul, it's Alison." His manager, of course, she always calls before a job to make sure he gets there in time, which he always does. "We've just had Sebastian Dixon on the phone, he wants to know if it would be alright to keep you back for a bit of a private sitting after the Esquire shoot today?"

"Um...yeah sure." He says, mildly surprised, it's Dixon after all and he'd give the guy whatever he needed if it meant getting in such a renowned photographers good books. "Did he mention why?"

"He said it would be, and i quote 'a personal favour' for him, apparently he wants his son to take a few practice runs and thinks you may be perfect for it.

"Sure Alison, go ahead and call him back, i'm free all afternoon so whatever he needs." He sees the train pulling in so hastily says "im getting on the metro now so text me if you need anything else." Before ending the call and finding himself a seat.

Intrigued, he hits up google and types in Daryl Dixon. The images the search comes up with are not what he was expecting the young Dixon to look like. He had pictured the man to be a gentle looking, debonair man, someone elegant and well manicured like his father, what he was not expecting to see was a man who looked to be the personification of a bad boy. Dixon was all rugged, interesting good looks, piercing but narrow blue eyes, black leather, ripped jeans and cigarettes. He suddenly finds himself looking forward to this shoot more so than he had upon waking this morning and it certainly wasn't just because this was an amazing gig to land, at least he thinks, now he'll have a very pretty face to look at whilst he works. So if he spends the entire ride downtown scrolling through various snapshots of Dixon and maybe reading the latest gossip pages on 'why Daryl Dixon is never seen with a girl on his arm' well, can he really be blamed?

His phone chirps at him and he sees its a message from Rosita.

~{Ros:}~ Morning J, how was the party last night? Im hurt you didn't invite me ;p

He chuckles, the suggestive winky face she had sent along with the message making it clear she didn't care about the party at all. Of course Tara hadn't invited her, Tara had a giant crush on the latino beauty and hated her long term boyfriend, who was currently visiting for the week. He thinks back to the previous evening. As usual Mags and Tara had invited some guys over for drinks, he'd stayed for a few just because the girls had insisted but he found the company lacking. He may be a male model but the endless parties and insincere 'friends' was frankly tiring so he had crept to his room when everyone else was either too wasted or busy to notice and that's where he had stayed.

~{Paul}~ "same old, you still coming tonight though? What about Ford?"

~{Ros}~ "I'll be there, of course! Wouldn't let you go solo would I? You'd leave after an hour. No Abe's heading home today so you can be my date?"

He laughs, knowing she's right, he goes to afterparties because it's expected of him, its necessary to get his face out there, mingle with the right people, make friends with the stars and the important guys behind the scenes but he can honestly say most of them end up being a bust. Not all though, sometimes he manages to find himself a pretty guy to take home, for the night at least.

Finally, he gets to his stop and switches Eagulls off, the studio is only a ten minute walk from the station and with today's shoot being 'traditional men's wear' he switches the music to some classic Sinatra to get him in the mood. He's met at the door by a very attractive man with pretty blue eyes, strong masculine jaw and lovely looking brown curls at the nape of his neck.

"Hi, Paul Rovia" he says holding his hand out for a handshake "I'm here for the Esquire shoot?"

"Rick Grimes" the man takes his hand "Mr. Dixon is setting up on the second floor."he says stepping aside with a smile.

God, he thinks, if he were ten years older he'd be asking this guy for his number. Instead he offers a polite nod and makes his way into the building, heading for the second floor with a twinge of butterflies floating around his stomach.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the wonderful comments on the first chapter! I'm glad everyone seems to like the AU idea.

Chapter two:

The studio is already a flurry of activity when the Dixon men enter, the backdrop is going up, lighting being erected around the platform and Spencer is running the cases up ready for Sebastian to set up. Amy heads over already armed with coffee cups and hands one to Sebastian with a nod then turns to Daryl holding the other steaming cup in her outstretched hand.

"Morning Daryl." She says, blushing furiously while he takes the cup and glances down at the floor with a grateful smile across his lips. He's pretty sure she's had a crush on him since the first time they met six months ago. She's a sweet girl, pretty face, nice eyes and very kind, he hates the idea that he might be unintentionally giving her the impression that she has a shot with him but he can't find it in him to tell her that she doesn't have a hope in hells chance with him. It's not that she's not attractive, it's the fact that she's a girl, woman, he should say woman really. Still it's guys he's into, not girls and he doesn't really know how to tell her that.

Not that he's really found anyone yet that he _is_ into, there was that one guy in college, Alex- something his name was. Daryl had been drunk at a party that night he had lost himself to the atmosphere for a while and ended up with his tongue shoved deep in the guys mouth and his hands on Alex's bare ass cheeks underneath his jeans before he freaked out and bailed like a fucking idiot, he'd had a fair bit to drink and he doesn't even remember it that well but that was the extent of his very short, sorry sex life, much to the dismay of his friends.

He still found his 'childhood trauma', as Morgan (his therapist) liked to call it, hard to get past sometimes. The harsh words of his biological father still echoed through his mind, made the scars on his back itch on occasions though he tried his best to ignore it and use the tools Morgan had taught him to expel the thoughts, sometimes when he let his guard down it would overwhelm him and drag him down. That's the reason he'd never been on a date, never been kissed sober and even then only once. It's also why he throws himself into his work, his passions, hunting, photography and his motorbikes. If he kept himself busy he could pretend he didn't have time for dates and no one would question it.

"Black, no sugar right?" Amy asks, still looking hopeful, big wide smile on her open face. Daryl thinks he might have to ask someone to please for fucks sake give the poor girl a heads up that she's barking up the wrong tree before he accidentally breaks her heart.

"Yeh, thanks Amy." He mumbles, eyes still flicking between her sweet face and his own feet. He spots Glenn running around like he does, over her shoulder. "I...um..." he stammers "Glenn" he finishes lamely pointing towards where his friend seemed to be struggling with a rather large box by himself. Leaving Amy behind, he hurries across the studio to help Glenn out.

"Here, I gotcha" Daryl says, putting his coffee cup on a nearby table and grabbing one end of the box.

"Daryl! Hey man, how's things?" Glenn asks with gusto, obviously glad to see Daryl again and grateful for the help.

"M'good, where's this goin' anyways?" Daryl asks.

"Oh your dad wants it over there" he says gesturing to the intended spot "I hear you're shooting today too?"

"Mhm, says I need the practice but I...Uh...I dunno, ain't good at shootin' people, models y'know?"

"C'mon man, you know you're gonna be amazing, you've got natural talent, you know your dad wouldn't let you near the models if you were shit. Just here, yeah, thanks man." He says as they lower the box to the floor. Daryl follows Glenn back to the other side of the studios then turns to take a good look around the room as the final touches are put in place.

"Looks like a pretty standard shoot to me." He says.

"You say standard, but I hear you, you mean boring Dixon, not dark and beautiful enough for you?" Glenn laughs giving Daryl's shoulder a playful nudge.

"Pft!" Daryl snorts with a grin, Glenn knows him all too well. This is why he doesn't think fashion photography will be his thing, he couldn't stand doing boring shoot after boring shoot. He liked making dark and twisted things look beautiful and magical. He liked showcasing the light hidden deep in the dark places.

"You seen this guy yet? Names Paul but i hear everyone calls him Jesus, can you believe that?" Glenn laughs.

Daryl offers a hint of a grin back "Jesus? Yeah I can see that, Dad showed me the guys file on the way over, he's...uh..." Daryl can feel his cheeks heat up slightly.

"He's hot?" Glenn asks "you can tell me you think he's hot Daryl, you might be shooting him but it's not your gig, you don't have to be professional, least not with me anyway." He grins.

Daryl drops his voice to a whisper and leans in a little closer "yeah ok prick, he's fucking hot alright?" He grumbles.

Glenn just laughs and goes back to doing his job as Daryl heads back to his coffee, grateful to Amy for remembering to add a little cold water so it doesn't scald his mouth on the first sip. He suddenly remembers that Glenn had been on a date over the weekend "hey Glenn, how'd it go with that girl?"

"Maggie?" He asks, blushing furiously "I took her to Bestia, she's so beautiful Daryl, smart and funny and really down to earth. She mentioned a party at a friend of hers next weekend and asked if I wanted to go but they're all models Daryl, actual real life, beautiful, models, with money and famous friends and I'm....well, look at me!" He laments holding his palms wide to indicate his point.

"Hey, she must like ya else she wouldn't has asked ya." He reasoned, Glenn was a great guy and it sounds like this Maggie had seen it too. "I'm looking man and ain't seeing nothin wrong with ya at all." He grins as Glenn blushes.

"You're right I guess, fuck Daryl I'm dating a model!" He laughs and Daryl gives him a friendly shoulder nudge just as he hears the door opening.

"Paul!" He hears his dads call from across the room and Daryl turns to look at the guy now walking through the doorway. Sebastian calls the model over and after a brief but warm handshake they begin to chat. Daryl cant seem to keep his eyes of the model, his shoulder length, light brown hair, haphazardly swept over to one side, well kept and very fashionable beard covering his chin, those pretty pink lips and beautiful big eyes that Daryl can't figure out from this far away whether they are blue or green. He's wearing ripped black jeans, fitted white tee and a leather jacket that Daryl could totally see himself wearing. The guy looks good, definitely hot, Daryl thinks just as his dad looks up at him and Paul follows his gaze, eyes locking instantly with Daryl's. He thinks he sees Paul's lips twitch upwards in a smile before his dad beckons him over. Daryl has to center himself for a moment, trying not to look at the model as he walks over, the guy looks just as good as his photos and as he walks over Daryl's feet feel like lead pushing through jelly and he has no idea why.

"Paul, this is my son Daryl" Sebastian smiles proudly "Daryl, Paul, or Jesus as he's   
more often called these days." He laughs at that and Paul/Jesus joins in as he holds a hand out for Daryl to shake.

Daryl feels like a complete prick when he notices his cheeks heating up as their fingers make contact, he tries to smile but is pretty sure it ended up looking more like a grimace than anything else. Its not like he hasn't met male models before, there was just something about this guy that made him feel a little lightheaded. How the fuck is he gonna be able to shoot this guy if he cant stop fuckin' staring?

"I caught your show at voila, gotta say I was really impressed!" Daryl nodded his thanks, feeling a little taken back by that comment, he thought most models his age were just into posing and parties and sex with the groupies, he would never have imagined a guy like Jesus attending an art show, especially not one like his had been. "Sebastian tells me you're going to get your hands on me today too Daryl?" He says and his smile is wide and genuine with just a hint of playfulness, the same hint that sparkles in those pools that Daryl has officially decided to be blue, almost green but blue nonetheless. He suddenly finds himself eager to photograph this man, he wants to see how different his eyes would come out during editing.

He realizes then that Jesus is still holding onto his hand, he clears his throat and glances at his dad for a split second, wishing for a moment that the older man wasn't here so he could try and flirt with Jesus, though he'd probably be shit at it anyway, or that he would take pity on Daryl and speak for him because once again he's struggling to make his fucking mouth work properly. Still, his dad flashes him a brief look of encouragement before smiling so Daryl takes a deep breath and tries his hardest to fix his eyes on Jesus' just like his mother keeps telling him to, make eye contact, smile, try not to look at the floor when you speak.

"Mhm, once yer all set with the main shoot, imma grab yer fer a few, that alright?" Daryl manages a whole sentence without fucking up and feels good, then of course feels like an idiot again for being happy he managed to speak like a proper human being for a moment and then even more of an idiot realizing his accent gets thicker the more nervous he is and now he's gonna sound like a real southern hick, standing out like a sore thumb.

"Sounds like fun." Jesus grins oblivious to Daryl's discomfort, then finally releases Daryl's hand and turns back to Sebastian again like Daryl's awkwardness is the most natural thing in the world. "so, i'll just go get dressed quickly and we'll get started?" His eyes dart back to Daryl's, who is definitely not staring at him, nope, just professional interest of course.

"Perfect." Sebastian answers, then calls Amy over "this here is Amy, she'll show you where to get changed, Glenn should be waiting for you already in case you need anything, hair and make up are already there but by the looks of it you wont need much, we'll finish getting set up and see you in a bit." He turns back to look at his son as Jesus makes his way to costume. "I've got a good feeling about this one son." He nudges Daryl gently with a soft chuckle. "You make sure you pay attention now and be thinking of what you'll want to do with him once the main shoot is over."

Daryl says nothing, he's already thinking of a few things but none of them have much to do with fashion or photography.

  
******

He's even more intrigued after meeting Daryl and finding him quiet and reserved, shy almost. From Daryl's pictures he was expecting someone arrogant and standoffish, especially someone who comes from a family with a lot of money but Daryl is completely the opposite, quiet and unassuming, Daryl Dixon is intriguing. The mans whole persona gives off that bad boy vibe, dark shaggy hair that falls over his face like he doesn't give a shit, narrow, almost calculating blue eyes that almost look like they're readying for a fight, black leather and dark denim, he smells like smoke, dirt and motor oil and everything about him screams biker. The more he looks though the more he can see the hair is something he hides behind, the narrow eyes are guarded and non-threatening, the leather and oil screams of a man out of place inside a bright white room filled with people. Daryl looks and feels like he belongs wedged firmly under a motorcycle, tools spread around him and oil smeared across his skin. And isn't that a picture.

He's not really sure how the guy is going to manage if he tries to break into the fashion industry, most people in that role have very outgoing personalities, he figures it's kind of a necessity to be able to put people at ease and get the best out of their subjects, but Jesus can't help but find the guys quiet nature endearing. It definitely wasn't what he was expecting that's for sure.

It doesn't take him long to get ready, a light dusting of make up and some product in his hair to make it sit right and he's dressed in the first outfit of the day. Amy is a sweet little thing, rushing around to make sure he feels comfortable, if he needs a drink or something to eat, she's like a little hummingbird as she dashes around making sure everyone has anything they need. Glenn is there as promised, hauling things around, Jesus isn't sure exactly what he's doing but the kid seems to have a purpose in mind. He chats the whole time and Jesus likes it, its friendly and it's something he does himself.

"Have you worked with the Dixon's long?" He asks Glenn whilst one of the girls is trying to tame his mop of hair.

"Oh, about two years I think? Started off as a sort of mail boy for Mr Dixon but now I've turned into the go to guy for whatever they need on set." Glenn replies with a proud smile as he's shifting around some of the clothing rails in the room.

"Anything I should know about the younger Dixon?" He's probing and he knows it, doesn't even care if he sounds interested, he is interested, the guy is an enigma and he wants to know more, he thinks he might ask the guy out for a drink sometime, purely on a work basis of course, Daryl probably has some beautiful girl to go home too knowing the circles he must move in.

"Daryl? Well, he's gonna be more nervous than you, that's for sure. He's not great with people to start with so don't worry if he's not too chatty but he's a wonderful guy when you get to know him. You'll love his pictures, the guys a genius with a lens!" He replies enthusiastically.

"Oh Daryl's a real sweetheart!" Amy suddenly offers and Jesus can just tell by the look on her face that she's obviously head over heels for the man, she doesn't look to be what he would consider Daryl's type but then again everything he's seen about the guy so far has him completely stumped so maybe? "He's so kind and sweet and he's always so shy, oh...sorry" she blushes when she sees the looks the two men are giving her, her cheeks heat up wildly before she all buys runs out of the room as if she'd been called.

"Don't mind Amy, she's had a crush on Daryl for as long as I've known her." Glenn laughs, not unkindly, Jesus gets the impression the guy couldn't be mean if he tried.

"Not his type then?" Jesus asks, trying not to sound too interested as he fiddles with the sleeve of his jumper.

"No," Glenn says seriously, giving Jesus a knowing look, then laughs again " _definitely_  not his type. Think they're ready for you now if you're good to go?"

He is ready, one quick glance in the mirror and he's extremely happy with the outfit he's been given. He takes a deep steadying breath, tells himself to not think about the rugged young Dixon and what he thinks Glenn might have been insinuating until the jobs done. He heads back into the studio oozing confidence and takes his place in front of the camera.

It's a nice easy shoot and Sebastian Dixon is perfect with his directions, he knows exactly what shots he wants and knows just the way to get them with minimal fuss. Jesus likes how easy the guy is to work with and just knows he's going to get himself a few new photos for his portfolio after this.

He tries not to get distracted by Daryl as he stands close to his father, constantly whispering to each other and discussing the pictures on the camera view screen. Daryl's thumb seems to be forever in and out of his mouth, almost like a nervous twitch and Jesus tries hard not to think about that too much. He tries hard not to think about how wide Daryl's shoulders are, so wide they almost look fake, or how, now that Daryl's taken his jacket off, he can see the guys biceps and how they ripple every time he moves. He has to look away then, take just a second to clear his head of the images those strong arms conjure up in his brain, It wouldn't be professional of him at all to think about that mouth on his neck or those arms and how they'd feel wrapped around him for too long, not standing up here in front of a room full of people anyway. But listening to the two men discuss his cheekbones, his lips, his eyes and his body shape has him listening more intently than he probably should be.


	3. Chapter three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to update this a little early this week, I should have a reason really but I don't. I might decide to update this fic more than once a week from now on too. 
> 
> I'm currently working on chapter 8 so there's definitely more of this fic to come for anyone who's interested.
> 
> I'm interested to know what you guys think so drop me a comment!

Chapter three:

Sebastian's shoot is a standard one. Houndstooth print trousers, chunky cashmere jumpers and sixties cut Burberry suits. It's a plain white background, a stool for him to perch on and not much else in the way of props, editing will do the rest. Hair and make up are rushing in every few frames to powder Jesus' face and fix his hair at the older Dixon's directions and all Daryl can think about as he stands behind his father is how too light and staged it all looks. Of course he understands that this is what the client asked for, traditional men's wear, basic, show off the clothes, classic and understated but he's watching Jesus work, seeing that slightly unusual face, too big eyes and too plump lips, unruly hair and outgrown beard, the cut of the suit hinting at subtle muscles and he can see so much inspiration for a dark, edgy shoot somewhere outside, the woods or the dark back alleys in the rougher part of town.

He's already planning what sort of shots he wants to get of this guy, thinking of the potential outside of Esquire's boring parameters and uninspiring visions. Getting half an hour off the record with this guy means he can afford to do what he wants, well, within the confines of this building anyway. His dad has been whispering to him the entire time the camera clicks away furiously, he's forcing himself to pay attention and not to stare at the man or get too bothered by the room filled with people bustling around which normally never fails to make him feel uncomfortable and desperate for a smoke. Every time Sebastian has Jesus move to a new pose he points out the way the light hits his cheeks, how in this position his eyes look bigger and become the focal point, how with that screen just to the side it creates the shadows that really help to show off the cut of the suit. 

"See, he's got those big eyes" his dad begins again and Daryl is definitely looking "the trick is not to overdo it and have him look like a lost puppy." And Daryl can absolutely see how that could happen, having him look slightly to one side or up through his eye lashes has a completely different effect on the mans face. 

He has to admit, this guy was definitely a good choice for the shoot, he has an amazing figure and looks perfect in the clothes they've picked out for him. His shoulder length hair and fashionable full beard just adds that little bit of an interesting twist to what could easily be a very boyish face. He thinks though he'd much rather see the guy back in his own clothes, in fact he can't help but think back to the conversation his father and he had had in the car and thinks he'd much rather see the guy in a set of Calvin Kleins and that thought has him chewing on the side of his thumb again as he shuffles his feet and focuses his attention on the small divot in the floorboard by his boots. 

He also notices that, as the guy is being primped up by hair and make up, he chats easily with everyone, his smile is wide and engaging and Daryl doesn't think there's one person in the room who doesn't think Jesus is lovely. It makes Daryl feel a little envious that someone can be so open and friendly with a room filled with strangers when he finds it hard to hold a conversation with someone he's known for years without breaking out in a sweat. It's so very different from any other shoot he's joined his father on, normally models are strictly professional, taking instruction and staying in character but Jesus is lighting up the room with his open nature and friendly conversation and Daryl thinks he wouldn't mind grabbing a drink with the guy sometime. Maybe he'd show him some of the photos once he was done editing and they could discuss it over a beer.

"Dad" Daryl whispers whilst Amy is bringing Jesus a drink and Sebastian is flicking back and forth between a few different images on the view screen "imma go get set up." His dad gives him a little nod and a small look which Daryl can read as if the man had spoken the question aloud "takin him into costume, s'too light in here, need two of ya black screens when yer done."

Sebastian calls Glenn over and gets him to help Daryl move two of the screens into the costume room but before Glenn reaches the door he turns back to Daryl who hasn't moved "You coming?" He calls and Daryl realizes he's been staring because Jesus has taken off his jacket, undone his tie and is currently working on undoing the top few buttons on his shirt, just like he's been told to and shit, he needs to get out of this room before a fucking neon sign appears above his head flashing "gay as fuck for this guy!" So he follows Glenn into the back room and starts working on clearing out the prep team. 

It's cosy in there, smaller and darker than the main room which is exactly what Daryl wants. He and Glenn work to clear the clothing rails that line the walls, they place the black screens down each side of the room to cover the plain white paint, he positions a full length mirror and arm chair just so the small sliver of light from the window hits it at the perfect angle. 

"Glenn" Daryl calls his friend over "need ya ta find me a few things if ya can." He waits as Glenn produces a small note pad and pen from a pocket and begins to make notes. "Ok, need Jesus' own clothes, ask Amy where they went, then need ya ta see on them rails if there's anything else looks like his gear: leather, denim that sort of thing?" Daryl pauses looking around the room for a moment "need me an ashtray and hey, find out if imma set off the fire alarms of I light up in here?" 

Glenn hurries off to find everything and Daryl works his way around the room, adjusting the props slightly, setting up some small lighting and fiddles with his camera whilst he waits for Glenn to return. When he gets back with everything he asked for he tells Daryl that it's ok for him to smoke although the building manager wasn't too happy about it, he's suddenly feeling nervous, he's ready, he realizes he's actually excited, looking forward to his first model shoot. 

*****

 

Sebastian finally tells him it's a wrap and that they got some excellent shots which Jesus is hardly surprised by, the guy is a perfectionist after all. Quicker than lightening the room springs to life with the buzz of excited chatter, bodies once more begin to rush around the space issuing instructions and working to pack away the equipment and clear out the set ready to move out.

"I just wanted to thank you personally for agreeing to let Daryl shoot some pictures of you. He's good at his craft but he needs a little more practice photographing people in a staged setting." He explains as he watches Spencer begin to take various boxes down to the truck waiting on the curbside.

"It's really no problem, I've seen his work and I have to agree he is very good at what he does, I'm excited to see what he comes up with." Jesus replies with a smile. 

"He's setting up in costume if you'd like to go find him, I've got a few things to finish up here. It was a pleasure working with you Paul, see you later tonight." And with a brief nod and a warm smile he turns back to his camera and starts dismantling it leaving Jesus to make his way to his next shoot. 

He finds Daryl standing with his back to him, arm braced against the wall, peering out of the window, cigarette in one hand, camera in the other smoke lazily drifting around his fingertips and up into the room. Jesus leans against the doorframe taking a moment to admire the broad expanse of the mans shoulders, the snug fit of Daryl's shirt across his back before clearing his throat and watching as Daryl spins round as if he'd been burnt. Narrow blue eyes pierce into his one wide ones for just a moment before Daryl turns his gaze to the floor. 

"Don' mind if I smoke do ya?" Dixon asks looking nervous again. 

"No," Jesus says, shrugging himself away from the door "its fine, where'd you want me?" He asks as he makes his way into the room, eyes scanning the set up, flicking back to Daryl every so often, who is already holding up his camera, the soft click of the button letting Jesus know that the camera is already rolling and just like that Daryl is doing what he came here to do. 

The young Dixon had thought to get Jesus changed back into his own clothes but seeing now he looks right now, shirt gaping around his chest, tie slung haphazardly around his collar hair an absolute beautiful mess, makes him decide that the look will work, perfectly in fact. 

He picks up the models own clothes and takes a moment to lay them out across the top of the rail, there's a few outfits hanging up already but he places these so they look as if they'd been slung there in a hurry. He doesn't say anything whilst he arranges the set and neither does Jesus but Daryl can feel the mans eyes on him as he moves and when he's finished and turns back Jesus is looking at him with a mildly amused look on his face. 

"Can..." he's gnawing at his thumb again, desperately trying not to fall over his words and sound like a prick, his finger continues pressing on the shutter of the camera held in his hand, taking candid shots of the man as he moves, the sound soothes him so he starts again with more confidence this time "need ya to get that shirt open, leave it on, just keep it open." He lets his lips quirk up into a brief smile at the way Jesus doesn't even hesitate, nimble fingers making light work of the buttons then pulling the hem free of the waist band of his trousers. 

"This good?" Jesus asks moving closer, the same small smile playing across his own lips and fuck if Daryl doesn't think this feels like flirting. 

"S'good yeah, shoes off, jus' leave em over there." He indicates the floor underneath the window. As Jesus moves himself around the room, Daryl is still snapping photos, he's capturing the way Jesus' hand lightly drags across the mirror as he passes it, how the boots hang limp from his finger tips, his wide blue eyes traveling around the space, catching the light and the shadows in equal parts. Daryl already knows he's got at least five good frames without even looking. 

"You smoke?" He asks, nodding over to the ashtray he left on the floor, half smoked cigarette slowly burning down to its filter. 

Jesus turns to Daryl and shakes his head "never got a taste for it." 

"Can ya sit down on the floor, just there next to the chair" as the guy follows his direction he nods "perfect" he's not entirely sure if he's referring to Jesus' position or the man himself. He spends a moment adjusting the setting on the camera before snapping away again, looking over the top of the viewfinder watching Jesus get himself comfy in a relaxed, easy position. He leans forward to reposition one of the models legs slightly and moves the ashtray and boots back into the frame before sitting back on his heels, camera poised ready to go. 

"Said ya liked my work?" He asks out of the blue, not sure whether he's making conversation for the shoot or because he wants to her the guy talk. He watches him instantly relax, smiling wide and starts clicking away again capturing the way his eyes change, the quirk of his lips, the way his fingers brush his hair back from his face. 

"Yeah, I thought it was pretty different." He chuckles "honestly I thought it was your dads work until I got there." 

Daryl laughs at that too, which makes Jesus look right at him, eyebrows raising, smiling even wider before flicking his gaze down to his lap again and that's another three perfect shots right there. 

"Yeah," Daryl chuckles "definitely ain't my dads style. 

"Will you be at the party tonight?" Jesus asks, watching Daryl snap photo after photo of him was fascinating, the fact that he seemed to be giving next to no directions about positioning or expressions had him curious as to how the shots would turn out. 

Daryl seemed so much more at ease in here, away from the crowd of people and behind the camera lens, he hadn't really meant to ask that question, it had just sort of fallen from his lips before he could even think about it. 

Daryl looked surprised but nodded, of course he'd be there, kinda had to when his father was basically the guest of honour. He checks his camera for a moment and thinks the last few frames he caught were perfect. Jesus looked like a rock star at the end of a gig, keyed up still but with a look of honest vulnerability adorning his face, the darkness, the smoke, shadows and set up were all perfect. It looked like something he'd expect to see in the Rolling Stones magazine. 

"We're done." He says suddenly, much to the models surprise, they hadn't even been in the room twenty minutes and they were done already? 

"Are you sure? I think that might be the quickest shoot I've ever done." He was kind of hoping to use the full half an hour and get to know a bit more about Daryl but maybe he'd get a chance later on tonight over a drink. 

"Ain't one for shooting inside much, s'just a bit of practice but reckon I got some pretty good shots." Daryl starts as Jesus lifts himself off the floor far more gracefully than the average guy and Daryl is back to being nervous and shy again "I'll...uh...let ya get dressed, thanks fer this." 

"Well, if you ever need more practice I'll be more than happy to help Daryl, maybe you can take me somewhere that works better for you?" Jesus takes a step forward and Daryl is doing everything he can not to bite down on his lip as the guy offers his hand for a shake somehow hearing Jesus say his name feels familiar, comforting. 

They both feel the light tingling as their skin connects, feel their muscles tense slightly as they make eye contact, closer now than they've been all morning. They are close enough that Daryl can smell the sweet tang of Jesus' cologne, can feel the heat radiating from his exposed chest and see up close the little patch of dark hair above his waistband and Jesus can finally see how blue Daryl's eyes really are because they aren't narrowed and defensive right now, this close they're wide, open, deep and so very blue and he can feel a grin spreading across his lips as they hold each other's gaze for a little longer than strictly necessary. 

Just as the room starts to feel thick with anticipation Jesus speaks but his tone is no longer light and friendly, it's low and seductively deep and it makes Daryl shiver slightly to hear when he says "I'll look for you tonight Dixon." 

Daryl has just enough willpower in him to nod before pulling his now sweaty palm away from Jesus' hand and heading out of the door to let the man get changed desperate for another smoke and to get his ass home to pour over the pictures he's just taken of one of the prettiest guys he's seen in a long time. Even more than his looks, Daryl thinks as he heads back into the studio to help clean up that the guy is nice, charming but not arrogant, friendly but not overwhelming or fake, he reminds him a bit of Glenn actually. 

Jesus watches him go and finds himself looking forward to the party tonight far more than he usually would. He thinks that he's pretty sure he now knows just why Daryl Dixon is never seen with a girl on his arm and that might just work in his favour.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man last night was ROUGH, I'll say no more in case some of you haven't watched it but for those of you who have, enjoy some more easy reading.
> 
>  
> 
> Footnote. I don't speak Spanish, I mean I can order a beer but that's it so Google gave me a hand. If it's rubbish blame google. 
> 
> Also, I have no beta so you know, mistakes aaaaaal over (well I hope not but you know)

Chapter four:

The party is being hosted at Vibe in downtown LA. It's guest list only and there's a certain dress code he's expected to adhere to which, he fucking hates. It means wearing a shirt and fucking tie. Those damn things always feel like they're choking him no matter how loose he leaves them. So he's already feeling pissed off when he arrives despite how hard Rick had tried to lighten the mood on the drive over.

Rick may be the head of the family's security but he was more friend to Daryl than anything else. He'd been given the option of having either Shane or Rick attend the party with him and as much as he liked Shane, the guy acted like a bodyguard which, is technically what he is but that makes Daryl feel uncomfortable and plus, Shane can be a total douche bag sometimes.

So Daryl had spent the car journey fiddling with his suit, picking nonexistent pieces of fluff off and fidgeting in an attempt to make it feel less constrictive, staring out of the window and watching the LA lights whip past, whilst Rick had attempted to give him a friendly pep talk from the passenger seat as Spencer weaved in and out of the traffic. His mum had sent their driver and Rick over to pick him up, he'd tried to insist on getting a cab but he's pretty sure his parents thought he'd bail on the party and didn't want to give him a chance to.

Ricks advice was always the same, that he's worth getting to know, that he is an interesting guy and should try not to be so nervous. No one was judging him, lay off the thumb chewing and try hard to look people in the eye when they are talking to him. Rick knows how much Daryl struggles in social situations like this and always tries to help remind him how proud his family are of him and how he has no need to be nervous. His words normally soothe Daryl somewhat but tonight they don't seem to be having the usual effect. Because, well, because there's a guy.

Rick opens his door for him (which he hates) and he steps out with a brief thanks to Spencer before following Rick to the door. There's no queue of party goers lining up in the street, this isn't that sort of club. It's one where you have to announce yourself, where the music is provided by some chart topping artist and the drinks are on the house.

"Daryl Dixon." Rick offers to the woman on the door, drawing back the lapel of his jacket to show his ID tag and they wait whilst she scrubs his name off the guest list.

"Good evening Mr Dixon." She smiles, all white veneers, ruby red lips and enough hair product on to blow the whole place up if anyone dared light up near her. "I believe Mr and Mrs Dixon have arrived already."  
  
Daryl thanks the woman, and heads into the dark foyer with Rick by his side immediately scanning the room for anyone he might know. Aaron had said Eric and he would be here, Daryl had offered to pick them both up but Aaron had said no due to them being the opposite side of town to Daryl's place but he's pretty sure it had more to do with Eric getting frisky every time Aaron puts on a tux.

"Fuckin' hate these things Rick." He says low enough so only Rick could hear.

"Just have a few drinks, show your face and then we can leave early if you like." Rick offers which is exactly what Daryl intends to do.

First thing Daryl does is seek out his parents, let them know he's there and showing his face just like they wanted him to. He's struck, as he always is at the vision that is this beautiful, strong, caring woman who chose to take him into her world and become his mother as she kisses him sweetly on the cheek and whispers that he looks good. He hugs her warmly and tells her she's beautiful like always.

His father grasps his hand and pulls him in for a brief hug before introducing him to the man to his left, Charlie Drake, editing chief at some obscure magazine over in New York. Daryl does his best to hold a conversation with the guy over the already too loud music before politely extracting himself and with a whispered promise that yes, he will try to enjoy himself to his mother he pulls off from the crowd and heads to the bar, Rick close on his heels.

It's not long before he's nursing his second drink and beginning to feel the unease disappearing from his tense shoulders as him and Rick talk about Daryl's plans to go hunting next week and whether Rick thinks he can get away from work for a while to join him.

"I dunno Daryl, Lori's struggling a bit right now and I'm not sure I should leave her for too long." Rick reasons.

Picking up on Rick's defeated tone and knowing that Rick and his wife have been having problems for a while Daryl shrugs "s'ok man, be nice ta get away by myself for a bit, s'everythin' ok?"

"Yeah just, you know how Lori and I have been lately and Carl, he's at that age then there's Judy, well, that little girl just hates sleep right now." He chuckles tiredly "pretty sure she's allergic to it."

Daryl laughs then, he's met Ricks kids before, likes them both, Judith is a cute little asskicker and Carl's a cool kid, he loves Daryl's crossbow (and the pool at the condo) but he's coming up to being a teenager and the last time Daryl saw him the kid was as grumpy as Merle had been that time Chrissie had left him with blue balls for a week. Thinking about Merle always made him sad so he shakes his brother out of his head and throws back the rest of his drink, calling the bartender over for another.

As always, Daryl is stuck making small talk with every Tom Dick and Harry that knows his parents or people who saw his art show or pretty girls who he dutifully orders drinks for, smiles at and tells they look beautiful as they gush at him and tell him who they're wearing tonight. Rick stays nearby with a faint smile and a hint of pride on his face as he plays with his phone and watches Daryl play his part well.

He's just managed to run off a lovely looking women with a flashing white smile and beautiful eyes, who said her name was Sasha before he spots Aaron and Eric heading over to the bar arm in arm looking like the perfect couple in suits that match and smiles that couldn't possibly get any wider.

"Daryl!" Eric shouts, waving at him and heading straight over. "Daryl Dixon you look good, real good!" Eric says appreciatively as he pulls Daryl in for a hug and Aaron steps up to pull Daryl in too.

"Hey, I see you took my advice on the suit? Looks good." He says adjusting Daryl's tie for him and grinning because yes Daryl had had a minor freak out about what he was going to pick for tonight and had given in and facetimed Aaron to ask for his advice and they'd had a little impromptu fashion show whilst Daryl grumbled and complained about not being able to wear his leathers.

"Please tell me this isn't the suit you'll be wearing to the wedding Dixon." Eric says with a fake look of anger on his face, in fact Daryl doesn't think he's ever seen Eric angry before the man exudes happiness. Eric's comment has him confused, Aaron picked the suit so it must be ok. Eric notices the look on Daryl's face and chuckles "if you wear that Daryl, everyone's going to be looking at you and not us!"

"Pft!" Daryl snorts and Aaron laughs giving Eric a good natured shove. "Ain't no one gonna be looking at me when you two are up in front beaming like two kids in a fuckin candy shop."

"He's right Eric," Aaron says with a smile to his fiancé "no ones going to pay any attention to grumpy Dixon over here when you'll be by my side looking utterly irresistible." Aaron says this with a playful grin on his face and Daryl isn't annoyed by the comment. He ducks his head slightly as both men lean in for a passionate kiss other than his parents he doesn't think he's ever met two people as in love as these two.

"Dance with me?" Eric asks of Aaron who nods tells Daryl they'll catch up with him later before dragging his date off into the dark.

Daryl orders himself another drink and has it finished before the next song is over. The place is becoming crowded now and Daryl's just beginning to feel like his skin is itching and his shirt is too tight so he turns to Rick and tells him he's heading out to the balcony for a smoke. He's already thinking about bailing on the party at this point, he's shook hands and made small talk with all the necessary people and he's feeling a light buzz from the alcohol, it's only the thought that he might miss seeing Jesus that keeps him from calling Spencer to come and get him already.

The warm air playing with his hair as he leans over the railings calms him as he blows smoke out into the world and watches it curl back around him and then get whipped away into the night sky. He misses the stars when he looks up, he loves LA with its busy streets and bright lights at night, it's dark streets and interesting buildings but he can admit that he misses the woods and forests of Georgia on nights like this when he's forced to wear a suit and shake hands over and over again. He longs to feel the weight of his crossbow on his back or the camera in his hands as he tracks game through the woods, sleeps under the night sky with the forest as a blanket and wades in the creek.

He's so busy thinking about the feel of dirt under his boots and the sound of the wind gently rushing through the trees that he doesn't hear the door opening behind him, doesn't notice the body slipping quietly through the open space, doesn't see the man until he's beside him, arms reaching forward to lean over the railings mere feet away.

When Daryl turns to look he realises that the guy he's been unconsciously waiting for has just appeared out of thin air and looking like a vision summoned up by his subconscious made real, is holding out a glass for him to take and Daryl is trying to reboot his brain because at the sight of this guy before him it seems to have suddenly shut down.

  
*******

"Vamos mi belleza, we're already flying past 'fashionably late'." Jesus calls down the hallway of Rosita's flat as he is still waiting for her to pick a pair of shoes to go with her outfit. He should've offered to pick up Maggie and Tara first and bring them here before heading out together, maybe Rosita would've been quicker. Though he doubts that really, the whole thing probably would've turned into a fashion parade before long.

He hears the horn of the cab he ordered, heads down to meet it leaning through the window and promising the guy they'd only be another two minutes offering him another ten bucks to wait for them. Just as he heads back to the flat Rosita appears in the doorway looking absolutely radiant in a skin tight black dress with straps and a sweetheart neckline and he smiles at the vision in front of him. Insanely proud that this beauty is his date for this evening.

"Se mira encantador." He whispers to her as he walks her down the steps "if I played for your team." He says with a sigh and a chuckle as he helps her into the car.

"You don't look too shabby yourself, muy guapo. You're wearing your good shoes, you showing off for anyone or are they for me?" She says it with a smile and a playful tap on his thigh as the car pulls away from the curb taking them through the heaving streets of LA.

"There might be someone." He replies shyly, fiddling with his beard a little while he checks his reflection in the darkened window.

"Oh?" Rosita says with his eyebrows so high they are practically touching her hairline.

"Maybe, met him today, he's," he pauses wondering how to describe Daryl Dixon without sounding like a love sick teenager "he's, interesting."

"Interesting? And does he play for your team?." She laughs and Jesus looks once more out of the window and sees they've almost arrived at vibe so he gathers his suit jacket a little closer, flicks off a small speck of fluff from his sleeve and sweeps his hair away from his face one more time as the car pulls up to the curb.

"Honestly I've no idea, there was a moment, I think he is but it's hard to tell." He says quietly before getting out of the car and heading around to grab Rosita's door for her, holding out his arm for her to take and walking up to the club "I think my radar is broken!" He says this with dramatic flair and they both laugh as they head inside.

As soon as they enter they're both pulled into warm hugs by Maggie who looks stunning in a floor length emerald green ball gown and Tara who looks equally beautiful in perfectly tailored suit that is so wonderfully Tara that it makes him smile.

Maggie drags them around the room to meet and greet the rich and famous and Jesus can't help but feel honoured to have these three beautiful women accompany him tonight. He has no doubt that he's the envy of almost every man in the room right now and he can't help but feel pride at that thought. They've been there for half an hour already before Tara demands a turn on the dance floor and Jesus takes the opportunity to bow out and leave the girls to it, ushering them along without him as he heads to grab himself the first drink of the night.

He spots someone he recognises at the bar and makes a beeline for him "Rick Grimes right?" He says to the man from earlier today.

"The very same, Paul Rovia if I remember right?" He replies as they shake hands for the second time that day.

"So I'm guessing you work for Mr Dixon?" Jesus asks smiling and waves the bartender over "a shot of tequila and whiskey please."

"Yeah I work for the Dixons, have done a few years now. My partner Shane and I run their security for them." Rick offers warmly obviously proud of his job, Jesus can see that.

Jesus throws back his shot and chases it with the whiskey, ready to get this party started already and trying not to look too closely at this Rick who is definitely too old for him and what a shame that is, but it's Daryl he's interested in tonight and he's just starting to wonder if Daryl is ever going to turn up or whether he decided to skip the party. If he's honest with himself he can't picture the man in a place like this anyway, the guy probably came already, showed his face then bailed and he finds himself a little irked at Rosita suddenly for taking so long to get ready.

"I met Daryl earlier today." He starts, feeling bold and watching as Ricks eyes widen slightly, a small smirk beginning to show on his lips "I'm guessing he decided not to come tonight?" He says finishing his whiskey and placing the glass down on the bar a little heavier than he intended.

"No," Rick says letting his smile widen "Daryl's here." And Jesus can't help flicking his eyes back up to Ricks face quickly hope flitting across his features for just a second before reigning it in and turning to scan the crowd looking for the younger Dixon. "I think," Rick starts again "you'll find him on the balcony if you chose to head out there." Jesus takes a moment to compose his face into something that doesn't resemble a thirteen year old girl at her first One direction concert and stands ready to leave.

"Jack Daniels and coke." Rick says suddenly.

"I'm sorry?" Jesus asks confused.

"Daryl, his drink, Jack Daniels and Coke." Rick replies before turning back to the bar and back to whatever he was doing on his phone before Jesus interrupted him. He takes the in for what it is and orders two drinks, one for Daryl and one for himself before pushing off from the bar and heading towards the door leading outside.

He's stopped suddenly by Rosita begging him to come and dance with her but he stops her quickly leans in close and whispers to her "later, I'm off to find my guy." With a wink. She offers him a wide smile and turns back to the dance floor to whisper in Mags' ear and within seconds all three girls are giving him a thumbs up which makes him roll his eyes and laugh.

He can tell it's Daryl out there just from the guys silhouette, there's no mistaking those extra wide shoulders or narrow waist and hips and Jesus feels his face flush just a little at some of the thoughts making their way into his head right now reminding himself to keep his cool and go slow, Daryl strikes him as the kind of guy who spooks easily and anyway, he gives himself a mental shake, you still don't even know whether he's into girls or guys.

He gently pulls the door open enough for him to pass through and just as quietly closes it behind him, not wanting to startle the man who is quite obviously lost in his own thoughts. He steps up to the railings and leans over them himself before holding out the drink in his hand towards the man who now has his beautiful blue eyes trained right on him.

"Jd and Coke right?" He says as he offers the glass and smiles.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and Jesus have their first proper conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morning everyone, are you still here? 
> 
> Did I mention that this is a slow burn? Yup. Slow!
> 
> Anyway, comment and tell me if you're still hanging around.

Chapter five:

"Uh...." Daryl struggles to get his brain in gear long enough to form a coherent sentence as he reaches out to take the glass "thanks... how did you...?"

"Oh" Jesus says with a chuckle "I had a little insider help." Then seeing the little quirk of Daryl's eyebrows asking an unspoken question he adds "met Rick at the bar."

"Right, thanks" Daryl says quietly, accepting the drink taking a few large swigs as he tries to watch the man out of the corner of his eye. They slip for a moment into a slightly uncomfortable silence, the only sounds are the faint whistling of the wind and the muffled noise of the music from inside. Daryl doesn't even know who's playing but it definitely ain't his kinda music. Jesus leans heavily on the railings and looks out over the city, following Daryl's gaze and wondering what the quiet man is thinking about. He's just beginning to wonder how he can strike up a conversation when Daryl sighs heavily.

"Not good with crowds." He offers quietly, keeping his eyes fixed on the scene before him and not turning to look at the man to his right even though he can feel his eyes boring into the side of his face. He can already feel his cheeks heating up because he doesn't know why he just admitted that to this guy who's probably about two grunts from him away from thinking him a backwoods redneck incapable of being in normal society.

Jesus considers that for a moment, he could tell from their time together this morning that Daryl isn't great with people, shy and reserved, most people might think it strange but he found it quite adorable actually, especially now, watching how Daryl's cheeks take on a slight pink tint as he speaks, the way he chews on the inside of his cheek a little. He wants to draw him out of that shell he's caught in and unravel the little mysteries that make Daryl who he is.

"You're not the only one." He says softly, dropping his eyes from Daryl's face to his own glass as he speaks. "I'm not a huge fan of crowds myself."

"Kinda hard to avoid ain't it? bein' a model n' all." Daryl grunts, now he's looking and wishing he'd thought to bring his Pentax with him, thinking his vintage camera would take just the perfect photo right now from this angle, this guy framed by LA, dressed to kill with a melancholy look on his face. "Thought models were all about the party scene?"

Jesus laughs and Daryl is suddenly hit by how perfect this guy's mouth is stretched wide behind white teeth and captivated by the way his huge eyes light up and his head tilts back just enough to make the stretch of his neck beautiful and elegant as his hair flutters gently in the breeze.

"I don't mind the odd party." He says still chuckling lightly, turning his body towards Daryl, hip cocked against the railing this time and takes a swig of his drink, watching as Daryl does the same. "But I guess I'm not your stereotypical model, like my own company a bit too much I suppose."

Daryl doesn't say anything to that, he can understand that perfectly, he's a photographer who doesn't like crowds, isn't great at talking to people and is absolutely shit at telling people what to do.

"Ever been ta Georgia?" Daryl asks, changing the subject.

"Can't say I have no, I grew up in Washington, came to LA chasing the modeling dream." Jesus says with a slight wistful tone.

"Lived there as a kid with ma brother, Merle, practically grew up in the woods, huntin for food, sleepin on the ground under the stars. Miss em sometimes, the woods, s'peaceful ya know?" Shit, he's got no fucking idea why he's telling him this, thinking about Merle before has his brother playing on his mind, with a quick look he notes that Jesus looks interested, not bored.

"I didn't realize you had a brother, though the accent kinda gives you away as a good ol' southern boy" Jesus teases, putting on a pretty decent southern accent himself.

"Pft!" He snorts "yeah came to LA when I was a kid, still takes some gettin used ta. Lots a people." He smiles ruefully.

"Is your brother here tonight?" Jesus asks.

"Nah, he ain't here." He replies simply, he's got no intention of telling this guy exactly where Merle is these days, not yet anyway. "Don't think I'd be here either tonight if it weren't for my Ma, always sayin I need ta get out more, meet someone." And he huffs a laugh at that.

"You come by yourself tonight then or did you find some beautiful woman to bring?" Jesus asks feeling a little bold, must be the tequila he thinks but when Daryl gives him a level glare he starts to wonder whether he's overstepped some invisible boundary and instantly wants to take it back. Instead he holds Daryl's gaze and smiles, a little twitch of his eyebrows and lips as he waits for Daryl to speak.

Daryl isn't sure what the fuck to say to that, he knows he should say no but would that make him sound like a loser? "Came with Rick." He blurts then scowls because what a fucking stupid thing to say, Rick's his security not his date, maybe he should've asked Michonne to come with him, he'd thought about inviting her, she's a good friend, his trainer who kicks his ass regularly in the gym but she would've looked good on his arm and probably saved him from all the women who'd tried chatting him up tonight, save him from feeling like an asshole for letting them down, she would've spared him from fucking up the first real conversation he's had with this guy.

"Oh." Jesus says, disappointed because if Daryl was with Rick, age gap or no he really didn't have a hope in hell. The disappointment must have been plain to see on his face because Daryl lets out a little huff which Jesus takes to be his way of laughing and he adds that to the list of adorable things this guy does.

"Rick's married" he snorts "he ain't my date, didn't bring one." Daryl clarifies and remembers his father telling him this morning that Jesus' big eyes could easily turn into puppy dog eyes and he was so fucking right. This guy's eyes are practically speaking their own language. Instead of making him uncomfortable it's actually helpful, he doesn't feel like he has to guess what Jesus is thinking. With that thought he relaxes a little, flicks his finished cigarette over the barrier and turns to face Jesus, mirroring the mans easy posture. "You bring one?"

"Kind of, the lovely Miss Espinosa agreed to be my date tonight." He laughs "I find turning up with a beautiful woman on your arm stops awkward questions." He grimaces then thinking how bad that just sounded and with a glance can see Daryl is obviously thinking the same because he's scowling slightly so he rushes to add "of course if I could've found a beautiful guy to be my date instead I would've been much happier." Letting his eyes emphasize the meaning of that statement as they widen slightly and his eyebrows wiggle, definitely the tequila.

"Yeah." Daryl says and that really doesn't tell Jesus much at all but he thinks maybe the crooked smile on Daryl's face gives him enough.

"Then of course, there's my entourage, Maggie Greene and Tara Chambler, though I'm fairly sure they just like having a gay friend to parade around." He laughs thinking about Tara being gay herself and how Mags seems to have lucked out with the both of them.

Well, Daryl thinks, at least he knows they're both swinging with the same bat, then the name he mentioned suddenly clicks "Maggie Greene?" Daryl asks "the model?"

"The very same, we met at a party a while ago and have been friends ever since, have you met her?" He's thinking he'll introduce Mags and the girls to Daryl later if he gets the chance. If Daryl wants of course.

"Nah ain't met her, pretty sure she's dating Glenn though. Ya remember Glenn from the shoot today?" Daryl says emptying his glass and reaching for another smoke.

"The Korean kid? Nice guy, chatty?" And when Daryl nods he adds "I knew she was dating someone but, well I'd never put those two together!"

Daryl laughs at that and says "pretty sure Glenn thinks the same." And his smile goes from a crooked grin to a true full smile when Jesus laughs, happy he's feeling comfortable enough to get out a few quips with this guy.

"I'll introduce you if you like? I'm sure she'd like to meet you, especially once she knows your a friend of Glenn's. He had a lot of good things to say about you you know?"

Daryl flushes slightly at the praise, secretly wondering what it was exactly that Glenn had said, kids a fucking Chatty Cathy when he wants to be and doesn't always think before he says shit but Jesus said it was all good so can't be that bad.

"Yeah, alright." Thinking Glenn would be proud of him for being so fucking sociable, though he's wondering why the kids not here himself if Maggie is.

"You normally smoke this much?" he Says, teasing Daryl a little, he's normally much better at flirting but Daryl has him all screwed up with those blue eyes and kissable lips that he just wants to dive into. 

Daryl lets out his little huff of laugher, feeling the alcohol leading the way he says quietly "only when I'm nervous." And follows that statement with a little grimace at the way Jesus eyes twinkle in the darkness, before he can say anything else stupid he flicks his smoke out into the night again, ignoring the ashtray beside him then adds "c'mon lets go introduce me to ya girls before I change my mind and bail."

Suddenly Jesus is grabbing hold of his hand and pulling him back inside where they're met immediately by a tall beautiful brunette who he just knows is Maggie based on Glenn's pretty in depth description. He thinks he'll have to remind himself to give the kid a fucking high five next time he sees him because this girl is stunning, even if she is standing there looking slightly ridiculous with her mouth gaping slightly and eyebrows high. Daryl has to hold back a snort of laughter at the look on her face.

"Maggie, this is Daryl Dixon, a very talented artist and photographer, Daryl, Maggie Greene." He states proudly as they shake hands gently. "Maggie, Daryl is a good friend of Glenn's who I understand is your mystery guy?"

Maggie beams at Daryl then and says "you know Glenn?"

"Mhm, been friends a few years now, works for my father, he's mentioned you a few times." Daryl says with a grin, kids talked pretty much non stop about Maggie since they first met but he ain't gonna rat his friend out. "Surprised he ain't here with ya tonight." He's happy to see Maggie blushing slightly but looking pleased.

"I asked him to come but I don't think he was ready to put on a suit and party with a crowd of models" she laughs and Daryl joins in, yeah that sounds exactly like Glenn. Maybe he'd have to start dragging the kid along the next time he has one of these to go to, get him used to it if he's gonna date a model. Might have to take him shopping, help him get some 'events clothes' as Aaron calls them, thinking of Aaron he realizes he should probably rope the guy in to help him since he knows jack shit about fashion and Aaron does. Maggie opens her mouth to say something else but is quickly interrupted by two other women appearing at her side.

"Ladies" Jesus says grabbing both girls and pulling them in closer "This here is Daryl Dixon, he's the man who's art show I was raving about a few months back." Both women smile at Daryl who's starting to look a little uncomfortable at the addition of another two people to their conversation, or maybe it was his comment about Daryl's art show? He's guessing he isn't the type to crave attention, quite the opposite from what he's seen so far. "This is my date I told you about, Rosita Espinosa and the wonderful Tara Chambler."

Tara steps in quickly seeming to sense Daryl's discomfort "Hey Daryl nice to meet you." She says accepting the handshake but Jesus gets the impression she'd rather have a fist bump. "Read an article about you a while ago, I follow your dad's work pretty closely, anyway, it said you're into bikes right?"

Daryl was starting to feel a little antsy being surrounded by these four who were all focused on him but at the mention of motorcycles he relaxes just a little more plus Tara seems like the kinda girl he could be good friends with. "Yeah, ride em and fix em up when I get the chance, you ride?"

"Yeah, my dad was pretty into bikes so I kinda got the bug early, been trying to get Jesus here on the back of one for ages." she gives her friend a playful punch on the arm and laughs at his scowl.

"Reckon I'll have ta take ya out fer a spin sometime, go find someplace quiet ta take some more shots." Daryl says to Jesus, thinking the idea of this guy sat on the back of his bike, arms wrapped around his body is something he could definitely get on board with. By the look on his face, Jesus is thinking along the same lines.

Seeing the look passing between the two men Rosita quickly jumps in before Tara can start chewing Daryl's ear off about bikes she says "it was lovely meeting you Daryl but I think I'm ready for a drink," then turning to Jesus and giving him a quick squeeze says "you still owe me a dance Paul." Before grabbing up Maggie and Tara and herding them towards the bar.

"Nice meeting you Daryl" Tara calls over her shoulder as she moves away following Maggie and Rosita off into the dark.

"Yer friends are nice." Daryl says shyly, turning back to Jesus to see him beaming which almost takes his breath away. Yes, he's definitely going to take some more photos of this guy and soon hopefully but for tonight he thinks he's ready to head back home, he has to find his parents first and say his goodbyes before he gets too wasted.

"Listen, I better get goin" he says quietly "thanks fer the drink and fer earlier."

"Wait." Jesus puts out a hand to stop him before he moves away and Daryl looks down at where his hand has come to rest gently on his arm, his heartbeat speeds up slightly at how close they both are to one another as he looks back up to the mans face and notices how long Jesus' eyelashes look up this close. He bites his lip without conscious thought. He doesn't miss the way Jesus' eyes follow the movement and that makes the blood rush to his face and he can hear it loud in his own ears, drowning out the sounds of the music and the crowds surrounding them.

"Would you like to meet for a coffee sometime?" Jesus asks. He's hit by the overwhelming rush of desire to kiss Daryl in that moment and leans in closer, drawn like a magnet, completely without conscious thought, the idea of not seeing Daryl again makes his stomach feel like it's been filled with lead.

Daryl doesn't answer straight away, he's, for want of a better word, dazzled by this beautiful model standing in his personal space, looking like a perfect specimen of a man with his elegant fingers flexing slightly against his arm which feels like it's on fire from the touch. Daryl thinks that the guy is gonna make a move and thinks he'd definitely be ok with that.

"Mhm." He says, still chewing on his lip slightly but looking straight into Jesus' eyes. What would it be like to kiss those pretty lips? Just to lean in and steal a moment. In a flash it occurs to him that they're standing in a crowded club, surrounded by the fashion industry's finest, his parents included and there's no way he's kissing this guy in front of all these people plus he only met the guy that morning, he doesn't even know him, but he knows that it's something he definitely wants to change so he moves to put a little space between them breaking the spell they both seem to be under.

Jesus lets his hand slide gently from Daryl's arm then but instead of pulling it away he trails the outside of his bicep softly before dropping it "I don't have my schedule for next week yet but," and he reaches inside his pocket for his phone "why don't you give me your number and I'll text you as soon as I know when I'm free?"

So Daryl reels off his number and watches as the guy types it into his phone, then, not really knowing what else to say he mumbles a goodbye and walks back into the bar to grab Rick, who has obviously been watching the exchange because he gives Daryl a knowing look and a playful shoulder nudge to which Daryl mutters a quick "fuck off" with a big fucking grin plastered to his face before they both head into the throng in search of his parents.

Jesus stands there for a moment after Daryl leaves, his eyes following wide shoulders and narrow hips as they walk across the room. He watches as Daryl leans in and kisses his mother on the cheek, gets pulled into an embrace by his father and heads towards the doors closely followed by Rick. He manages to tear his eyes away from the young Dixon and heads to join the girls at the bar and instantly grabbed by Tara.

"Daryl Dixon?." She exclaims "Daryl Dixon is your guy?"

"I'm working on it." He says with a sly grin which morphs into a shy one when Daryl pauses at the door and turns in his direction before offering a small raise of his hand and a tiny nod of his head as a farewell.

"Details Rovia, I need details." She says watching the exchange before she drags him back towards the dance floor.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God next weeks episode looks like it's gonna break my heart!! My poor Daryl :( 
> 
> Anyway, bit of fluff.
> 
> And a reminder that this is a slow burn. 
> 
> BUT I've just finished writing their first smut scene and it'll be worth the wait I promise!

Chapter six:

Daryl wakes with the birdsong that morning, later than usual, the sun shining through his windows, a gentle breeze causes the white curtains to flutter and billow into the room, he stretches in his soft bed, tangling himself further in the forest green sheets his mother had bought him for his last birthday and spends a few moments rubbing his sleep weary face into the pillow before swinging his legs around onto the floor and reaching for his track pants to pull them on. His mind is still trying desperately to hold onto the wonderful dream he had been having, it's already fading fast, slipping through his fingers like water, leaving only big blue eyes, soft brown hair and overwhelming sense of familiarity behind as he sits on the edge of the bed for a moment basking in the bright sun, he studiously ignores the tenting in his trousers silently willing it away until its gone down enough for him to head into the bathroom and relieve himself, because he's woken late and he doesn't have the fuckin time to deal with it properly. Once that little problem is taken care off (thanks to the always reliable image of Merle naked running through the forest shouting about his itchy ass after wiping it on poison oak one time) he gets up to brush his teeth and splash water on his face to help him wake up.

It wasn't long before he was stood in the kitchen looming over his coffee machine as it whirred to life brewing him a large cup of strong black coffee while he thought back to yesterday. He'd spent the morning tidying the condo knowing Marie would be here today to clean. He hated leaving her too much to do, leaving a mess felt like laziness and even though his mother insisted he have a cleaner come over twice a week, he always makes sure to leave the place reasonably tidy before she arrives. He'd called Michonne afterwards and they'd met over at Noah's in the afternoon. Noah was a great kid, around Daryl's age who'd started up a gym of sorts aimed at getting kids off the streets and give them somewhere to go where they could feel safe, accepted and work on building confidence and self esteem though training and sparring. Him and Michonne helped out from time to time sparring with the kids, Michonne teaching them new techniques and helping them train. Sometimes they just headed over to help supervise or Daryl would go with his camera and snap a few frames for promotion and he often gifted the pictures to the gym to hang around the walls which made the kids feel proud to see their hard work immortalized around the place. Standing in his fully furnished, expensive condo in the rich part of LA he still felt a little bit like a fraud, he wishes he'd had somewhere like Noah's to escape to when he was a kid, feeling lost, scared and alone, times when his pa had been in a rage on the backend of a bender, his brother out chasing whores and his mama too wasted to give a shit that once again Daryl's back was being torn to pieces by that son of a bitches belt. Yesterday's session had been good though, Michonne had only bested him twice before he kicked her out of the ring and encouraged some of the older kids to come and take a turn. His jaw still felt a little tender from where Tony had caught him off guard, kid has a brutal right hook thats for sure, he thinks as he rubs the tender spot unconsciously.

He takes the steaming mug of coffee with him as he pads quietly through the open planned space, heading over to his to his editing room, flicks on the computers and his MacBook before heading outside to sit by the pool and finish his drink while he waits for them to load up. It's peaceful out here or at least it is until Marie arrives and tries to talk him to death, fussing over him and following him around with a plate of food telling him he's far too skinny. He snorts out loud at his thoughts, she was an older Turkish woman and though he grumbled at her mothering of him he really didn't mind.

The moment that thought died in his head he heard the tell tale sounds of the gates opening at the bottom of the driveway so he downed the rest of his cup before practically running back through the house to grab himself a shirt to throw on before Marie let herself in, no need to give her more reason to lament about his apparent lack of body fat.

It's already 10:15 before he actually gets to sit in front of his screens and load up the files from Saturday's shoot. Marie had indeed insisted she make him a bacon and egg sandwich before he got showered and dressed for the day and who was he to refuse her? He spends hours pouring over the images on his screen and works some of the best editing he's ever done, completely oblivious to the world away from his screens or the sounds of Marie bustling around the place. The more he works on the pictures before him the harder it is to keep his thoughts strictly professional, eyes raking over the planes of Jesus' torso, catching on the thick patches of hair teasingly peeking out from beneath the waistband of his trousers, the flecks of color in the hair that covers his jawline that Daryl just feels the compelling urge to fucking nuzzle against, the bluest eyes that Daryl can't help but get a little lost in and it's terrifying and thrilling all at once to be this attracted to another person for the first time. In fact it's not until Marie calls to him to come and answer his damned phone already that his mind returns to reasonable thought and he realizes how late it is and how he hadn't looked at his phone all day. So he's not surprised to find his screen filled with messages.

_Dad [11:30am]_ mum and I will be there around 2 x

He checks his watch quickly and realizes they'll be here in an hour so he fires off a quick reply.

_Daryl [1:05pm]_ sorry, been busy, see you then - D

He finds a text from Aaron telling him the invitations for the wedding had arrived which made him grin, then grimace because the next message was from Eric telling him they'd be taking Daryl shopping for suits soon. Rick had texted him wishing him a good week and saying he wished he was joining him on his hunting trip and then there was a couple from Glenn.

_Glenn [12:35pm]_ Maggie said she met you, did you like her? She's beautiful right?

Daryl has to smile at Glenn's enthusiasm, he can almost feel the excitement in the messages and can imagine Glenn's face as he sent them.

_Glenn [12:38pm]_ she said you were with Jesus, apparently they're friends! Did you kiss him yet ;)

He groans internally at that last message and chooses to ignore it in his reply.

_Daryl [1:15pm]_ definitely punching above ya weight there, she's nice. Can see why ya like her. - D

There was one more message and it was from an unknown number.

_Unknown [12:59pm]_ finally got my schedule for the week if you still wanna meet up for coffee? - Paul.

Paul? it takes Daryl a second to engage his brain and work out that Paul was Jesus and when it did his face cracked into the biggest grin without his consent. He hastily stored the number into his phone under 'Jesus' before replying.

_Daryl [1:17pm]_ ya free tonight? round 6? - Daryl.

He chewed on his thumb without thinking, his heart beat picking up slightly as he poured himself a glass of water while he waited for a reply. He'd already decided to invite the guy over to his place instead of out for coffee because then, he reasoned, he could show him the photos from the weekend and if he got Spencer to pick him up they'd be able to have a few beers together too. The loud chirrup of his phone broke through his thoughts as a new message came through.

_Jesus [1:20pm]_ sure, where should I meet you? -P

_Daryl [1:20pm]_ text me your address and I'll have you picked up - D

_Jesus [1:22pm]_ is this where I find out you're a secret stalker and I end up dead behind a dumpster? -P

He actually snorted water out of his nose before bursting into a full belly laugh at that and had to wipe his face and phone screen before replying.

_Daryl [1:23pm]_ bringin ya ta mine, figured I'd show ya the photos. No stalking, promise -D

The next message through was Jesus' address which he forwarded to Spencer with a request to please grab Paul for 6 and bring him over. Then he hurried to pack away his mess and fire up the coffee machine again before his parents arrived and tried to ignore the butterflies that seemed to have taken up residence in his stomach at the thought of Jesus coming over.

It's 6:30 and Daryl feels as though he's practically crawling out of his skin, anxiously waiting to hear the sound of Spencer's tires making their way up the drive way. He spent the afternoon with his parents, his mum lounging by the pool flicking through magazines and trawling through designs on her laptop planning out her next project which just happens to be a modest cabin Daryl had found buried deep in the woods near Angeles national park - perfect for him to stay in when he heads there for some of his longer hunting trips. Him and his dad spent their time hovering over their computers, Sebastian helping Daryl to fine tune some of his edits and uploading one or two of his own shots of Jesus from Saturday onto Daryl's mac so he can show the guy when he comes over later. His mum had been very interested to hear about the boys arranged meeting later and had quizzed him almost nonstop afterwards about what he was going to wear, was he going to cook, does he think something might happen. He'd blushed throughout the whole ordeal assuring her that it was purely business and he wasn't planning on getting changed at all, and he was just planning to order in a pizza which earned him a mildly disappointing scowl before his dad shooed her back to her own work with a grin.

"I've never known you to bring business home Daryl." His dad says quietly whilst his mum isn't listening. Daryl keeps his eyes firmly on the computer in front of him, the enlarged image of Jesus' torso plastered across the screen is definitely not helping him to calm the blush that's creeping across his face. "I'm just saying, if you like him you can tell us, you know your mother worries about you, she just wants you to be happy, as do I." And he puts a reassuring hand on Daryl's shoulder as he speaks.

"Like ‘im." He manages while still not looking at his dad. Chewing on his lip again which makes his dad chuckle. He always says it's Daryl's tell. Shows his true feelings if you know how to look. Somehow admitting it to his dad had made it feel much more real and that's why he's currently pacing the floor and running his hand through his hair wondering if he's got enough beer in the fridge, if he really should have changed and hoping that Jesus likes the pictures he took while he waits for him to arrive.

*********

 

 

 

He'd thought about texting Daryl all day Sunday, all through his martial arts session which really threw him off his game and landed him on his ass more than once, all through his impromptu lunch date with Tara blocking out her usual chatter about bikes, her next project, Rosita of course, girl was totally smitten and he's pretty sure that'll end in heartbreak sometime soon. Not that Tara has any problems finding a girl to take her mind off it for a night or two and sometimes he envied her of that. She'd noticed he wasn't totally with her about an hour and two glasses of wine into the meal and called him out on it.

"Earth to Rovia" she had teased "where the hell were you?" He snapped back to the conversation realizing that he hadn't heard a word she'd said in the last ten minutes.

"Shit, sorry Tara what?" Feeling bad for being lost in his own head for a while.

"Never mind, wasn't anything important. So go on what were you thinking about to space out like that?"

"Just thinking back to last night." He answered guardedly.

"Good party, my feet are still sore, I really shouldn't have worn those heels, it's all Maggie's fault, next time I'm wearing vans and the doorman can suck it." She deadpanned which made Jesus laugh so hard he's pretty sure a piece of his spaghetti landed on her side of the table which, of course made Tara squeal with disgust and throw her napkin at him, he snatched it out of the air before it could hit him in the face and chucked it right back at her.

"Alright Gonzales" she sputtered as she caught her breath from laughing so hard "what about last night had you away with the fairies?" When he didn't answer she smirked "ah, I wonder if it has anything to do with a certain surly photographer? Pretty blue eyes and looks damn fine in a tux? Am I right?" Then when he couldn't help the massive grin that spread across his face "I knew it! You're totally smitten aren't you?" She had squealed in delight "I mean I totally get it, he's got that bad boy look about him but he seems really sweet and he's rich." She winked.

"You know I don't care about the money Tar," he grumbled "and I don't think he's a bad boy but I admit he does look the part. I dunno there's just something about him. He agreed to have coffee with me you know?"

"Oh really?" She'd said with a suggestive brow wiggle.

"It's just coffee." He'd assured her holding his palms out to calm her.

"Yeah but it's a start right? I mean he's never going to be able to resist our lord and savior, with his pretty, pretty hair and Drop dead gorgeous eyes now is he?" Jesus just laughed at that and ignored the slight pink tint his cheeks were once again taking on and flicked some of his water off his fingers at her before telling her to shut it.

So yeah, he'd thought about texting Daryl the whole day, just had no idea what to say to him so he hadn't, he'd decided to wait until he got his schedule from Alison because at least he'd have something to talk about and hope Daryl had some time free for that coffee.

Alison was busy first thing Monday morning and he had already been booked in for a test shoot for the Calvin Klein range, nothing too serious, just rock up, strip down, parade around in some fancy boxers while they tested the lights against him and how he looked along side different models. All in all it was pretty fun actually, he was paired up with a guy called Elliot who was nice but definitely thought very highly of himself and a woman called Sarah who was an absolute joy to work with all smiles and kind words.

All throughout the morning couldn't get the image of that quirky smile, narrow blue eyes and that little incline of the Daryl's head as he left the club out of his mind. There was just something about Daryl Dixon that made him feel alive, made him feel his age instead of years older than everyone around him and he couldn't wait to see him again. So as soon as Alison had arrived back at the office and emailed over his schedule for the week he'd immediately fired off a text to Daryl. He'd worried a bit when he hadn't got a reply straight away but figured Daryl was busy, probably out with his camera somewhere taking more breathtaking pictures. His heart jumped into his throat when Daryl had asked him over to his place tonight and fuck what was he going to wear? As soon as his shoot was over he put in an emergency call to Maggie begging her to come over.

"The first one, definitely the first one, brings out the color of your eyes." Maggie shouts to him, she's teasing him because he's tried on four different outfits so far and it's normally him that is shouting at her to just pick something and hurry up. Still, he's torn between an old band shirt and a plain button up. He's sure it isn't a date but he still wants to look good, not like he's trying too hard but still good and god it's been so long since he went out on a date, not that this is a date he keeps correcting himself as he stares into the mirror. His choice of clothes is taken away from him however by the sounds of the apartment buzzer loudly indicating that the car Daryl had sent over for him had arrived and since he currently had on the band shirt that, evidentially is what he was wearing tonight.

"Maggie." He shouts down the hall "ask him to wait just a sec will you?" As he dashes into the bathroom and hastily pulls his hair back into a top knot bun, double checking he doesn't have anything in his teeth and spritzing himself with a small amount of cologne before rushing out, giving Maggie a quick kiss as she wishes him good luck and hauls himself into the black Mercedes, driver already back behind the wheel.

"God evening Mr Rovia," the driver turns in his seat to look back at Paul and holding his hand out for a brief shake "my name is Spencer Monroe, it should take us around 20 minutes to get to Mr Dixon's place, would you like to listen to some music?"

"Um, sure thanks Spencer." He says awkwardly, starting to feel a little bit like he was in that film with Richard Gere and that hooker that time. Wondering whether Daryl really was as down to earth as he had originally thought or whether he was the definition of a rich kid sending cars out to pick up his friends as a show of how much money he has. He feels a certain disappointment at this thought because he couldn't see himself ever dating someone who acted that way just because they had money. He figures he'll reserve judgement until after tonight and so settles in for the journey playing candy crush on his phone to pass the time.

It's not long before they're pulling up to a gated driveway and Spencer is typing in a code to allow them entrance, as they make their way up towards the house he sees the front door opening, light spilling out, bending around Daryl's distinctive silhouette and suddenly he's nervous.

"Have a good night Mr Rovia." Spencer calls as he gets out of the car and walks towards where Daryl is waiting for him.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys have their 'first date' get to know each other a little better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you read this chapter be warned, Jesus and Daryl both talk about their childhoods, so there's mentions of homophobia and child abuse.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you, everyone who's still reading or just finding this fic and giving it a shot.  
> Thank you to everyone who's left kudos and comments telling me you're still enjoying it. Slow burns are great reads but I know it can be difficult to wait for sexy times so knowing you're still reading and enjoying chapters really really helps!

Chapter seven:

"Hey." Daryl says and he looks shy again, Jesus' earlier thoughts about Daryl being all about the money he has are dwindling despite the large sprawl of the quite obviously expensive property he lives in.

"Hi, uh... thanks for sending Spencer, wouldn't have been a problem for me to get a cab." He says as he follows Daryl inside. The place is amazing, all white and grey, clean lines and open planned large sofas and huge windows. It looks immaculate compared to his place.

"Nah I know, jus' I take the bike when I go out, Spencer gets a little pissed off 'bout it, says I need ta use him more so I figured it'd keep 'im sweet for a bit if I had him pick ya up." He says as they walk down the corridor towards the living space.

He spots a few pieces of Daryl's own art work scattered around, sculptures and photos, dark and macabre but simple and beautiful nonetheless, he stops to look at a few as he walks past and Daryl pauses with him.

"Was from ma first week in LA." He mutters quietly as Jesus is admiring one of the pieces. "Dad said I had ta keep it, show how far I'd come er some shit." Jesus looks at him with appraising eyes and Daryl finds it hard again to look away even though the scrutiny makes him feel slightly uncomfortable or it might be how close they are standing together, almost touching and it might not be uncomfortable he's feeling but quite the opposite. "Beer?" Daryl asks suddenly breaking the tension because he's not about to stand there and try to figure out just what he's feeling right in that moment.

"Beer would be good, thanks." Jesus nods and follows Daryl into the kitchen, still looking around at the vast space, it doesn't really scream Daryl Dixon to him but then what does he really know about this guy yet? He spots Daryl's music collection and goes to have a peek, finding that they have a very similar taste in music and smiling wildly when he finds a Janes addition album near the top.

"Was gonna order a pizza, ya hungry?" Daryl asks from the kitchen and Jesus turns to look at him, cd case still in his hand.

"Pizza sounds great, I'm starving." He sighs. When Daryl heads over to hand him the beer he notices the album Jesus is holding and smirks.

"Ya a fan?" He asks.

"Have been for years, in fact" he says placing the cd back down and leaning slightly to let his eyes rake over the stacks of music "I'm pretty sure you have my entire music collection in here." He straightens back up beaming before taking a swig of beer.

"Good taste then?" Daryl answers with a low chuckle then heads off to grab his phone and punches in the pizza place's number "what do ya want?"

"Err, whatever you're having is fine, I'm not fussy." Jesus offers then listens as Daryl orders two different pizzas and some wings and tries not to stare too hard at him whilst he's not looking.

"Wanna see the pictures?" He asks once he's hung up "Dad popped over today, left me a couple from his drive for ya ta look over, said if ya like em ya can have em." And he beckons Jesus to follow him to the editing suite where he's left the computers running. He opens a draw in one of the desks and flicks on a large tv screen just off to one side which instantly brings up the computers desk top and Jesus groans causing Daryl's head to snap around to him to see what was wrong.

"God are you going to put them up on that?" He asks blushing furiously at the thought of being displayed on a big screen whilst Daryl and he watched, he wasn't a giant fan of seeing himself and to have to sit and watch himself being paraded for their viewing pleasure made him feel a little sick especially in present company. The thought that Daryl had been pouring over pictures of him all day makes his pulse quicken a little, selfishly hoping that he'd liked what he saw.

"Can just look through em on the small screen if ya like?" He says indicating the computer.

"That would definitely be better." Jesus laughs at his own discomfort but takes the seat Daryl offers and they start to flick through all the pictures, analyzing each one, Daryl becoming enthusiastic about the lines, color, angles and what the image says. Jesus honestly spends more time watching Daryl's face, the way it lights up as he talks about his craft, how sometimes he gets drawn into a picture so much it feels like he's forgotten there's another person sitting next to him, he can't help but be affected by the fact that Daryl isn't sitting beside him, he's leaning over the back of the chair, towering over him and god it feels good to be somewhat encased in this man who, he realizes, smells amazing. Daryl's arm moving with the mouse beside him, reaching to tap the keys every so often catches his attention, the muscles rippling with each movement are ridiculously distracting so he shakes his mind back to the room and focuses very intently on the screen before him.

They've just opened their third beer and have eaten their way through a pizza and a half before they're done with the pictures. He can't believe how many good shots Daryl had managed to take, considering they had only really been in that room for a short while, he did notice however that Daryl had also taken some candid shots of him while he was doing the main shoot and they were still amazing. Daryl had offered him a hard copy of each picture, no charge, even though Jesus had tried to argue with him that he'd pay for them, Daryl had shot him down instantly, flat refusing to take any sort of payment for his time, after all it was a favor for his dad which Jesus could've quite easily said no to.

They ended up sat outside on the lounge chairs near the firepit that Daryl had lit earlier out by the pool, already infinitely comfortable with each other's company after quite a few rounds of playful banter back and forth and a few beers between them.

"Why modelling?" Daryl asked after a moment of silence.

"My grandmother." He says simply, then noting Daryl's look of obvious confusion he sighs slightly before continuing "my parents kicked me out when I was 15 because I told them I was gay." He lets his eyes flick to Daryl for a second to check his reaction out of the corner of his eye before ploughing on like it was a story he told a lot but disliked repeating "my grandmother took me in because she didn't care about who I'd love someday, she encouraged me to get into modeling, I picked up a few small gigs during college then got 'discovered' so here I am."

Daryl doesn't say anything for a long time, just looks at the man in front of him and feels a rush of empathy. "S'rough." He finally croaks out, his voice low and gentle, the perfect specimen of southern masculinity. "Lucky you had yer grandma."

"Yeah, very lucky, she's my biggest fan." He chuckles, but it's quieter than it should be and Daryl's not fooled at all. "You mentioned you have a brother? Does he live in LA too?" He'd never seen any mention of Daryl having a brother but sometimes kids of famous parents stay as far from the limelight as they can.

"Nah, Merle's...." he stalls biting his lip again then pulling out a smoke to light, taking a deep drag and watching the smoke curl around in wispy tendrils and fly into the night on the exhale "he's behind bars. Has been for a long time now." Daryl says reluctantly, he doesn't like talking about Merle, he loves his brother and it hurts him to think that he'll probably spend his life in jail, away from Daryl. "Fucking armed robbery the dipshit, probably high on meth er summat." And with a glance he can see that Jesus is wide eyed, looking confused but not judgmental at all so he carries on "Merle n' me had it bad as kids, Pa was a mean son of a bitch, always wasted off his ass, liked his fists more n' his kids, Ma couldn't deal so drowned herself in drink, Merle n me got put inta the system n soon as he was old enough he got himself carted off to jail for the long term. S'when ma parents came n took me outta there, gave me this life, showed me what bein a family really means."

They both sit in silence for a long while after their mutual admissions, sipping on their beers, Daryl smoking quietly, both contemplating how much they'd been through and how far they'd come. If they could hear each other's thoughts they'd realize that they were thinking almost exactly the same thing about each other. How amazing the other was to have gone through what they had and turned out the decent person they were today.

"Sounds pretty fucking rough too." Jesus finally breaks the silence utilizing Daryl's response to his own childhood. But when Daryl looks he sees Jesus is smiling kindly not looking at him like he's trash or something broken worth pity. "Tell me about your friends, you've met all mine already Mags, Tara and Rosita, it's kinda hard to make friends in such a big city when you're not particularly big on crowds."

"Ain't that right." Daryl snorts thinking exactly the same thing about LA. "Ya've met Rick already a course, we go huntin together sometimes, brings his kids over ta mess around in the pool n shit, Morgan, he's my therapist." He says the last word with a grimace because he hates thinking of Morgan that way then seeing the questioning look on Jesus' face " parents insist on it, have done for years but Morgan n' I just shoot shit together more n' anything, he's a good guy, there's michonne, she's well, my trainer I suppose, started off that way anyway one of my closest friends now." He smiles fondly thinking of his total badass of a best friend.

"You train together?" Jesus asks "what sort of thing do you guys do?"

"All sorts I guess, depends what she fancies, sometimes we go downtown and throw some punches in the ring, others we go out runnin' sometimes just hit the gym. She pretty much kicks my ass most times." He laughs, eyes sparkling with glints of playful mischief which makes Jesus' chest clench for a moment seeing Daryl so relaxed and open.

"Ever tried martial arts?" He asks which Daryl shakes his head at "I've done it since I was a kid, train a couple of times a week, should let me teach you sometime." And the image of Daryl and he squaring off, dripping with sweat in track pants quietly assessing one another has him feeling a little hot, he's pretty sure Daryl is thinking the same thing because the mans eyes look like they've absorbed the flames from the firepit and are slowly burning holes into Jesus' already heated skin.

"Should come with me ta Noah's downtown, Chonne n' me go down there n' teach the kids a few moves. Reckon ya can show me a thing or two."

"I'd like that." Jesus says and it comes out quieter and almost shy, he's blushing and he can feel it but he really does want to spend more time with Daryl. He knows that they are going to become good friends they feel connected somehow. He can already tell that Daryl's a good guy, who his friends are is a pretty good indicator, they work for him but he doesn't treat them like staff, they don't treat him like a boss either, they've become his friends and that, to Jesus, speaks volumes about the man.

"I'm free Wednesday if you wanna get together and I'll put you through your paces?" He says with a playful grin.

Daryl smiles before it morphs into a slight scowl "nah, ain't free this week, off hunting in the mornin' won't be back till Friday." Feeling disappointed that his week is already tied up but thinking he's definitely going to see the guy again, soon hopefully. He likes being around Jesus, their conversation is easy, comfortable, the silences aren't strained or awkward just natural, two guys relaxing and drinking beer. More than that, he feels like he can be himself around this guy, after just a couple of days of knowing him and that's never happened before. Plus he's pretty fuckin' sure that the guy is flirting with him, not that he has too much practice with that sort of thing, it's normally chicks who flirt with him, over the top so it's clear as day but he's always had the impression that they want the money, not the man. Figuring out if a guy is flirting? Now that's a fucktonne harder to figure out. There's been a few moments tonight that set his nerves on fire, a slight brush of skin on skin that made his breath catch for a moment, sometimes when Jesus' eyes are on him he feels like he's about to combust, he's fairly sure Jesus had felt the same things but Daryl wasn't sure how to move on from the stalemate they seemed to be trapped in. He's never done this whole dating thing before and he feels completely fuckin' out of his depth.

"You hunt?" Jesus says interrupting his internal monologue.

"Yeah, over at the national park, just grabbed a cabin there, mums working on renovating the place so imma just camp on the land, hunt for ma food, sleep under the stars ya know?" Daryl says wistfully.

"Wow, impressive," he says with a whistle "I've never been hunting, never even fired a gun."

"I'll teach ya sometime, take ya down the firing range. I don't hunt with guns though, I use a crossbow s'quieter, guns scare the game away." He says proudly then chuckles at the look of incredulity on Jesus' face. "S'not that uncommon, been firing bows ever since I could wipe my own ass."

"Still impressive." He says "that's something I have to see." Just then he feels a buzz from his pocket so fishes out his phone to see a message from Tara asking him how his night is going followed by a rather obscene mix of emoji's which he doesn't even want to try and decipher right now but he's suddenly struck by how late it's become, knowing that he has an early call tomorrow morning he knows it's time for him to head back home, even if he doesn't want to.

"Shit, it's gone eleven already, didn't think it was that late." He says finishing his beer in one gulp "I've got an early job tomorrow, I better call a cab."

"Nah, ya ain't gettin a cab, Spencer'll take ya home, told ya it'll keep him off ma back for awhile." Daryl says already taking his phone out and calling his driver. "Says he'll be here in 10, lets go get you ya photos sorted real quick." He stands up and stretches, then quickly tips back the rest of his own beer and that right there, that little sliver of stomach on show, dark hair curled around low slung jeans, his neck thrown back, Adam's apple bobbing beautifully as he drinks, the arm muscles that look like they should be illegal, that is what makes Jesus forget to take a breath, it's what makes him stand and inch closer to Daryl, desperate to touch, to trace that jaw line with his lips and run his finger tips along his waistband but he doesn't, because although he feels like he already knows this man, they've really only known each other a few days and throwing himself at Daryl and kissing the shit out of him just isn't an option on their first, sort of date. So instead he swallows the lump in his throat, tries to pull himself together and follows the man blindly back to the editing room and watches closely as Daryl downloads all the images onto a flash drive.

When Daryl turns around to hand him the stick, Jesus purposefully lets their fingers brush together before taking it, letting their eyes lock as he does, hoping that Daryl sees in his eyes what he really wants to do, what he really wants to say and Daryl does, because as soon as their skin makes contact he can feel it, not just in his fingers but all over his body there's no doubt for him now that this guy is coming on to him and he flat refuses to look away from the most beautiful eyes he's ever come across, he's just moments from pulling the guy into him and kissing him when Jesus takes the drive and moves out of his personal space, not too much, just enough to break the moment but still close enough for Daryl to understand that it wasn't a negative reaction.

"Come to my place on Friday?" Jesus asks suddenly, still starting into Daryl's eyes as though he could jump right in and get lost for hours. "I mean," he stammers slightly realizing how desperate that request just sounded and trying to reign it in before he scares the guy off "The girls are coming over for a few drinks." Then seeing Daryl's expression change from heated to guarded in a split second he adds "apparently Maggie is bringing Glenn so there'll be someone other than me there that you know."

Daryl chews on his lip again, he ain't good in crowds but he liked Jesus' friends and knowing Glenn will be there means it won't be so bad, gives him more time with Jesus too, fuck it, he thinks, he'll ride the bike and then he can bail if it goes to shit.

"Mhm," still trying to chew a whole through the tender skin of his bottom lip "I'll come."

That lip chewing should be illegal, Jesus thinks because he can't take his eyes off the little flashes of white teeth, soft lips being sucked in and worried on or the hint of wet that it leaves behind, so he wrenches his gaze back up to Daryl's eyes and doesn't miss the heated smirk that finds its way onto Daryl's face.

He's just reaching for a piece of paper to write down his address when he hears a horn beep twice, short and sharp outside and he knows Spencer has arrived to take him back home, so he quickly scrawls out where he lives and hands it over. "Come over around 8." He says as he hands the note over. Then it's time for him to leave, Daryl leads the way, Jesus trailing in his shadow his feet and heart feeling heavy at having to end the evening already.

"Thank you, Daryl." He says as he walks out of the door with a soft smile on his face "Tonight was fun."

"Nah, 'appreciate ya comin over....Jesus." And Daryl says his name like it's a little insiders joke, which he supposes it is. Just as he's about to open the car door, he turns back to the man standing in the still open doorway, soft light pouring through the open space behind him and lighting him up in the most perfect way suddenly desperate to hear his name on Daryl's lips "Paul." He says softly "call me Paul."

When Daryl smiles back at him it's not soft and gentle or wide and happy, it looks full of promise, dirty, attractive as hell and so fucking hot that his pulse speeds up to near frantic not for the first time tonight.

"G'night Paul." He hears, once again, low and sensual perfectly rough and manly, it's goose-bump inducing.

Yep, that sounded as fucking perfect as he thought it would.

Jesus sits in the car, ignoring Spencer while at the same time Daryl leans against the now closed door and they both have the same thought.

I'm so fucking fucked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm editing chapter 8 and I'm pretty sure I can hear kissy noises!!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday night, party night!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for the lovely comments on the last chapter! So fricken awesome getting to read when people enjoy the story.
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> * if your reading this chapter for the first time, check out this link for some awesome art by Adele k Thomas based on this chapter....
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> http://adelekthomas.tumblr.com/post/152936820877/this-is-an-illustration-i-had-already-started-the

Chapter 8

His three day hunting trip had been absolute bliss. Nothing but him and his crossbow, tracking game through the woods, catching and cooking rabbits and swimming in the steady flowing river alongside his little wooden cabin set among the trees. He'd spent the first two days tracking a buck round in circles just for the fun of it before taking it down with a perfectly timed shot. He stripped the hide and took it over to the small, run down tackle shop a few miles from where he stayed. It was a tradition he'd started a few years ago, Daryl would stop on his way to the cabin to buy bait for his trip and stay to chat with the old guy who ran the place, Owen. He always took Owen the hides from the deer he killed because the old guy had kindly agreed to be a point of contact for him while he was hunting. Allowing him to switch off his phone, safe in the knowledge that if an emergency happened back home, someone would call the shop and Owen would come to find him. He always walked away from their trade with a bottle of whiskey and a box of the best tasting homemade flapjacks he'd ever had, even though he argued that the trade was unnecessary the guy insisted and it hurt Daryl to think that one year he would come back to the cabin and find the old man gone.

He sighs as he pulls into his driveway, the sun slowly making its descent through the sky. He was officially running late, very late, he'd blown a tyre on the way home and had to stop to change it out himself which had pissed him off and left him covered in grease.

He jumps out of the truck and hastily shoves his gear in the garage. Unceremoniously throwing the rabbit and left over deer meat in the fridge he keeps out there specifically for his kills before heading inside to take a shower. It's then he realises he doesn't have his phone on him so he wastes another half an hour searching through his gear and the truck for the damned thing. Giving up, he figures he either left it at the cabin or lost it somewhere between there and home and curses because he doesn't have time to drive back and look for it, it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

"Fuckin asshole!" He shouts to no one, he's so fucking late already and now he has no way to get in contact with Jesus. Paul even, he corrects himself, to tell him that he's still coming tonight. He jumps into the quickest shower he's ever had, berating himself the whole time for managing to have a peaceful few days then fuck it up before he'd even been home an hour. He'd left the cabin feeling relaxed and now, after the blowout and losing his piece of shit phone he felt fucking stressed. Paul would probably be thinking that he'd fuckin bailed and now he was gonna have to go and buy himself another phone tomorrow.

Racing out of the shower he grabs the nearest outfit he can find and shoves it on, not even bothering to glance in the mirror before he's running out of the door, sweeping up his helmet and the whiskey from Owen on his way past and throwing himself onto his triumph. Tearing down the driveway he practically flies through downtown LA.

****

Meanwhile across town Jesus is rushing around his apartment picking up the piles of clothes he's left strewn around and across the countertops, checking for the third time if he has enough beer for everyone knowing full well that Maggie would bring at least one bottle of spirits with her like she usually does. He knew he was having a minor freak out after spending time over at Daryl's, worrying about how small and cluttered his place seems in comparison, even though he knows Daryl won't give a shit. It startles him when the buzzer sounds from the hallway but soon finds out that it's Tara and a woman called Abi who he'd never met before but when Tara had texted him and asked if she could bring her new friend he'd said yes straight away.

"Hey Jesus." Tara says as she lets herself in and holds out for her signature fist bump while Abi stands awkwardly in the doorway, shuffling her feet and letting her eyes dance nervously around the room before finally setting on him.

"Abi? I'm Paul Rovia but my friends call me Jesus." He puts on the widest, least threatening smile he can manage despite the butterflies that seem to have taken up residence in his stomach at the thought of Daryl coming over.

"Hey." She says almost shyly "Jesus, yeah I..uh see that."

"Oh-kaaay," Tara chuckles "let's get you a drink" grabbing Abi by the hand and dragging her into the kitchen. Tara had brought wine and poured them both a large glass before heading to slump herself on the sofa, leaving enough space for Abi to slip in beside her.

"Hey where's Mags? And Rosita?" Tara calls to him as he walks into the kitchen himself and grabs a beer, draining half the bottle in one go in an attempt to settle his nerves.

"You know Maggie, she'll be here in a minute. Rosita bailed again, apparently Ford came back a few days early." He lets himself relax into the armchair and laughs when Tara mutters "asshole" under her breath.

"And your guy, Dixon you invited him right? Think he's gonna show?"

"Yeah, he said he'll be here but" with a quick look at his watch he sees its already 8:15 "think he's probably stuck in traffic or something." He turns to Abi, smiles at the woman again and almost laughs out loud at the grimace he gets back in return, she looks so awkward and out of place next to Tara's easy relaxed posture.

"So Tara never told me how you guys met." He offers quirking his eyebrows up in a question.

"Bagels." She answers suddenly, then looking slightly mortified she adds "she...ugh brought me a bagel."

Tara obviously takes pity on her and adds "she forgot her purse, so I bought her breakfast if she agreed to go out with me on a date." She smiles smugly and he's so jealous of her confidence. She flashes Abi a wicked smile and he doesn't miss how she relaxes at the sight.

He's saved by the buzzer once more and jumps up to let Maggie and Glenn in, dropping the now empty bottle into the recycling on the way past. Maggie has indeed brought alcohol, a bottle of vodka clutched in her hand and Glenn is carrying a six pack under his arm. He gives Maggie a brief squeeze before stealing the bottle off her and holding out for a handshake with Glenn.

"Hey Glenn, glad you came man, think Maggie missed you at vibe."

Glenn laughs before letting go of Jesus' hand "yeah a club full of models? Not sure I'm ready for that yet!"

"Not yet" Maggie adds "we're gonna get you warmed up to it don't worry." She sweeps an arm around Glenn and heads in to where Tara is now leaning in and whispering in Abi's ear.

He doesn't join them for now, lets them make their own introductions while he pours himself a large vodka and quickly knocks it back, it's gone half past already and he's fairly sure that Daryl is a no show so he has no problem getting a little tipsy.

"Hey, Where's Daryl?" Maggie calls and so he heads in and flumps down on the cuddle chair another vodka in his hand.

"I think, at this point it's safe to say he's probably not coming." He says sounding a little more disappointed than he meant it to come out.

"Glenn, call him and find out if he's still coming." She says nudging Glenn who immediately pulls out his phone and dials but after a few moments it's clear Daryl isn't going to answer so Jesus finishes his drink and heads to the stereo to put some music on.

Maggie and Tara get up to dance like they always do and he can't help but laugh at the girls antics, Abi seems to be warming up and is looking much more relaxed as her gaze follows Tara wherever she goes. Glenn is still trying to get hold of Daryl by the looks of it. He heads back to the kitchen to pour everyone a drink when theres a knock on the door and he freezes. He doesn't want to get his hopes up but no one else is coming tonight and unless it's his neighbour Mary trying to complain about the noise again he thinks there's only one person it could be.

He grimaces at Maggie as he heads over and opens the door to find Daryl Dixon himself looking absolutely fucking breathtaking and it quite literally does take his breath away for a moment. Daryl is leaning against the wall, sleek black helmet dangling from the wrist of his free arm, bottle of whiskey clutched tight in his fingers and thumb halfway into his mouth which he thinks is just pure torture and makes him think of a few better things that could be between those lips. He's wearing his worn, black leather jacket, an old Metallica shirt, low slung jeans held up by a thick brown belt and heavy work boots, his hair is damp and looks wild from being squashed into the helmet, eyes so bright it's like they're made from starlight and the longer his eyes rake across the man before him, the bigger the playful smirk on Daryl's lips gets.

"Daryl!" Glenn shouts from inside, it breaks the tension forming between the two men and he tries but fails to tear his eyes away from the beautiful creature in front of him and decides that yes, he is definitely tipsy already, the furious blush on his face and the blood pooling south giving him a pretty good hint.

Daryl wasn't unaffected in the slightest, he was nervous about being late, hell he was nervous about coming in the first place but looking at this man standing in the doorway, hair a gorgeous mess white button up and tight black jeans, barefoot and fucking beautiful with his eyes that seemed to have grown wide and somehow darker the longer he stood there, the flush that made Daryl think of sweaty palms and skin on skin, god he was so fucking glad he came.

"M'sorry 'bout bein' late, blew a tyre on the trip home n' musta left ma phone up in the cabin." He says, pushing himself away from the wall, inching closer and dropping his thumb from his mouth, his tongue chasing the wet across his bottom lip he notices Jesus' breathing speed up a little as his eyes followed the movement and that makes him grin, he was perfectly aware that it wasn't a friendly grin, he was practically leering at Paul because the thoughts running through his head right at this moment were about three fucking light years past friendly.

Paul felt like prey caught in a snare under that gaze, if the prey were offering itself up for the taking anyway. "I'm glad you're here." He manages to get out after another moment of staring at Daryl's lips, so fucking close. "Come on." He grabs Daryl's free hand and tugs him into the room where Glenn immediately gets up and pulls Daryl in for a friendly hug, Maggie follows immediately after and within seconds Tara bounds over and demands a fist bump.

"Hey Dixon! Thought you'd stood us up!" She teases "this is Abi, a friend of mine." She says with a very suggestive eyebrow wiggle that Abi can't and see which makes Daryl let out that little huff of a laugh that Jesus finds so fucking adorable. He gives a little nod to Abi who he thinks looks about as uncomfortable as he feels. Noticing the helmet in Daryl's hands Tara immediately starts talking bikes "did you ride over?"

"Mhm, truck was covered in blood so had ta bring the bike." Daryl mumbles as he drops the helmet on the sideboard near the door.

"Blood?" Maggie says with surprise, now back to prancing around the sofas.

"Daryl hunts. He's been up at his cabin the last few days." Glenn answers before Daryl has to.

"What're you riding?" Tara asks him as he follows Jesus into the kitchen and leaves the whiskey on the countertop.

"Uh s'triumph, MY16 Thruxton, got a few custom parts." He says smiling at Tara, happy to have someone to talk bikes with for once.

She whistles "sweet ride dude, promise me if you stick around you'll take me for a spin?"

"Sure, take ya out the city, let ya ride it if ya like?"

Tara's smile couldn't possibly get any wider as she leads Daryl into the living space and forces him to sit in the armchair, Jesus follows and perches on the arm trying to resist the urge to sling an arm around Daryl and run his fingers through his rapidly drying hair.

"Pick your poison Daryl." Tara says heading back to the kitchen to refill hers and Abi's wine glasses.

"Uh, got any beer?" Tara nods and twists the cap off and hands it to him.

"Sure you don't want anything stronger?" She asks now bringing the wine back and handing one to her date who's back to looking uncomfortable and immediately takes a rather large gulp before idly playing with the stem of the glass and letting her eyes travel around the group.

"Nah, beers fine, gotta ride home later." He mumbles feeling slightly uncomfortable at all eyes being on him.

Glenn soon comes to his rescue and starts grilling Tara and Abi about how they met, asking about how the girls met Jesus and that leads into a good hour or two of stories that make Jesus blush and everyone else laugh, Daryl included now he focus was off him.

The 'party' was a hit, Glenn fit in perfectly right from the get go with his easy, friendly nature and ability to chat comfortably with everybody, Abi slowly becoming more verbal with each glass of wine and Tara had a dreamy look in her eyes every time they landed on her. Daryl was still reserved but managed to integrate himself into the conversation every now and then. Jesus presumed it was largely down to glenn and Tara drawing him in without asking too much of him. Every now and then Daryl's hand would twitch as if he wanted to reach out and place it on Jesus' thigh but he always aborted the movement and Jesus would watch Daryl's fingers grip tight onto his own leg before relaxing again. They both kept stealing glances out of the corners of their eyes while the group around them chatted and traded stories, alcohol flowing freely between them.

Daryl had only had another beer before switching out to soda and Jesus, still feeling slightly buzzed followed suit. He found himself wishing that the other guys would go home, not that he wasn't enjoying the company, he was, they all were but he suddenly wanted Daryl all to himself again. He wanted to finally get a chance to make his move and hoped Daryl would be into it.

Everything goes perfectly until Abi, who now seems pretty far gone and has been chatting to Daryl albeit pretty awkwardly blurts out "so where's your girlfriend tonight, the way you look you must have all the girls throwing themselves at you" Luckily only Daryl and Jesus hear, Tara and Maggie having a rather loud game of 'never have I ever' while Glenn sits laughing hard at them both. He's about to put her straight when Daryl suddenly stands up out of the chair and walks towards the front door leaving Abi looking a little shell shocked even through her slightly drooping eyelids before she turns right back to Tara, her unintentional faux pas immediately forgotten. Jesus stands quickly and catches Daryl up before he reaches the door, laying a hand on his bicep and moving around to stand in his line of sight.

"Daryl, you're not leaving are you?" Realising that they're practically chest to chest and really, really hoping Daryl isn't about to bail "she didn't mean anything bad, I mean, look at you, I can see why she'd say it." He bites his bottom lip, lowering his eyes from Daryl's face and catching on the bob of his Adam's apple, cursing internally and telling himself to shut the fuck up. When he raises his eyes again Daryl is staring back at him and the look on the mans face is burning hot but about as far from angry as you can get.

"Ain't leavin," and as he says it Daryl's hands reach up and land on Jesus' arms, his thumbs start moving in slow circles and Jesus thinks he's about to turn into a bag of boneless jelly, right here in his hallway. "Was just gonna head out fer a smoke." Daryl isn't angry, yeah, ok, he was thrown by the awkward as fuck question and had no fuckin idea how to answer it but it weren't Abi's fault. "Ain't exactly like I go around in gold bootyshorts waving a fuckin rainbow flag." He says low and provocative and leaning right in Jesus' space.

Jesus laughs too, or at least he tries too but it comes out as sort of a breathless gasp that is as embarrassing as hell but with Daryl this close he's slowly loosing all sense of coherency.

"You don't have to go downstairs, come on" he says keeping his grip on Daryl's arm he leads him through the apartment catching a wink from Maggie on his way past, past the kitchen and into his bedroom where he finally lets go his grip and heads over to the wide windows, throwing them open to reveal a small, narrow balcony.

"C'mon." He says, noticing that Daryl is still standing awkwardly just inside the doorway, eyes roaming over the room, bottom lip once again caught between his teeth "you can smoke out here." He says nodding to the space next to him.

Daryl moves slowly through the room, taking in everything with quick glances trying to stop his eyes from coming to rest on Paul's bed, he thinks he's never been in a guys bedroom before, not one he's this attracted to anyway and it makes him a little nervous. The room isn't large but the bed is, dominating the space and looking very fuckin tempting. As he looks around he notices a stack of cds and some sketch books on the dresser along with a pile of hair ties and cufflinks, there's a overly large mirror on there too, reflecting the light back into the room. A stack of books on one of the bedside tables underneath a lamp, a collection of photographs stuck onto the wall beside it. There's a double wardrobe with Paul's leather jacket hanging on one of the doors and a pair of vans at the base. The space looks exactly how he expected it to, simple but filled with personality in a perfectly subtle way.

As he walks over he's struck again just how beautiful Paul is. Framed by the lights of LA, leaning backwards against the railings and looking absolutely fucking perfect with his shirt gaping at his throat, the top three buttons having been undone at some point during the night and how the fuck did he miss that before? All thoughts of lighting a smoke disappear the moment he locks eyes with Paul, his feet are moving him forward without conscious thought, determined and fearless for the first time in his life knowing exactly what he wants and completely unafraid to take the risk.

For the second time tonight Paul feels like prey caught in a hunters sights as Daryl approaches and he knows, without a doubt that they're going to kiss, he feels the hunger rolling off the man before him as he stalks forward and his mind becomes hazy with lust, thoughts becoming fuzzy around the edges the closer he gets.

"Daryl." He breaths out and it's stuttering, throaty, ragged and sounds almost desperate as Daryl steps right into his space.

"Fuck the smoke." Daryl growls out he doesn't give a shit about smoking right now, all he wants is to put hands on Paul, to feel lips against his own and when Paul's hands reach up towards his face he catches the gasp that wants to break free from his mouth, his heartbeat stutters and he can feel his pulse speed up, completely out of control.

As soon as Daryl is close enough Paul's hands reach up and trace the edge of Daryl's jaw with his fingertips. He can feel tingles like electrical pulses raging through him, his heart feels as though it's trying to break out of it's ivory cage, mind fizzling out to a numbing buzz as he looses himself in the soft curves of Daryl's face, high cheekbones jutting out in contrast, blue eyes glowing and flickering in the night lights. His eyes are drawn to the beauty mark above Daryl's thin lips and he wants to kiss it, to work his mouth over it before finding Daryl's lips.

Daryl is completely frozen, his mind whirring at a million miles an hour. Paul's finger tips on his skin feel like sparklers drawing lines of fire across his jaw and he can't force himself to look away for even a second. His eyes roam from Paul's long hair that he just wants to run his fingers through down to thick, wet, plump lips that he's desperate to run his tongue over. His wide blue eyes that seem to pull him in and rob him of every ounce of rational thought, even now, pupils almost non existent trying to swallow up the light and turn it into burning embers sucking him in and setting him on fire. He's momentarily frozen because ever since that first time he saw Paul on set he had wanted to feel the mans lips against his own and now it's mere seconds away from happening, all he has to do is just lean in another inch or so and take a taste.

Paul feels Daryl's hesitation and even though he thinks the mans eyes are telling him everything he needs to know he still worries that he might be pushing too far too soon and he slowly lets his hands drop. His body moves backwards slightly, allowing Daryl the chance to take the reigns again and back off if he wants to. He watches blue eyes follow the movement but they only get as far as chest height before Daryl's hands find his, tugging him back in. They lock eyes once more and heats builds between them, not the slow burn of a gentle campfire but the instant roar of gas fuelled flames consuming them both as Daryl leans in and softly brushes their noses together, tiny puffs of air tickling the hair of his beard and making his mouth dry. He licks his lips to wet them slightly and all of a sudden Daryl's mouth is on his, soft lips pressing against his own, a barely there pressure, hesitant, gentle and so perfect it makes his heartbeat skyrocket and his skin buzz enough to feel as though he were vibrating.

Daryl lets out a low hum of approval when he feels Paul's tongue caress the seam of his lips and that's all it takes for him to surge forward and deepen the kiss opening up and letting Paul's tongue delve into his mouth. He tastes faintly like vodka and something sweet that he can't put his finger on. He thinks that this man has been driving him crazy for a week now, desperate to get his hands on skin, lips on lips and dive into this, this perfect, all consuming feeling. He pushes himself flush against Paul's body, forcing him against the cold metal railings, hands grasp tight onto Paul's hips and has no control over the way his fingers push under the hem of his shirt, caressing the heated skin and causing Paul to moan into his mouth, the most delicious sound he's ever heard and he can feel himself getting hard as Paul pushes back against him, hands now tightly fisted in his hair, tongue dancing around his own and making him shiver.

They're both panting heavily now and Daryl never wants this to stop, he wants to kiss Paul until they run out of breath, until it becomes impossible to keep going, he wants to feel more skin, to kiss every single inch of Paul's body and feel him come apart underneath him, he's never felt like this before, never wanted anyone as much as he does this man. The thought is sobering. He grips Paul's hips harder but begins to pull away, slowly breaking the kiss and trying to catch his breath.

Paul's mouth follows as Daryl moves away, he can't help kissing across Daryl's jaw just like he'd fantasised about, stubble scraping across stubble, lips moving from the beauty spot, up and around leaving a trail of searing kisses all the way to below Daryl's ear. He's completely lost in the sensations when Daryl's voice cuts through the haze.

"Paul, wait." It's the hardest fuckin two words he's ever had to say because Paul's mouth working across his jaw and neck feels like a little sliver of heaven but he can't not say it. "Gotta say somethin."

"Hmmm?" Paul mumbles as his lips still work their magic on Daryl's over sensitive flesh. He pauses when he feels Daryl pushing against him slightly and panic rises in his throat hot like vomit as he thinks he's definitely pushed too far. He pulls away looking up at Daryl who doesn't look mad at all and he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"I'm sorry," he breaths out "was that too much?" Desperately hoping he hadn't screwed this up, he drops his hands from Daryl's hair and starts fiddling with his shirt self consciously.

"Nah, fuck Paul that was..." Daryl stutters out and his voice is still a raspy growl that sets Paul's insides alight. Daryl ducks his head slightly to catch Paul's eyes, trying to reassure him "best fuckin kiss I've ever had. S'just I ain't never done more than kiss a guy before, only ever kissed one before ya at that." And even as he says it the flush from the kiss morphs into one of embarrassment.

"Wow," he's stunned, how can a man who looks like Daryl fucking Dixon only have kissed one person before? "I mean," shit shit shit don't fuck this up Paul "that's ok Daryl we don't have to do anything you don't want to okay? We'll keep it PG for now if you want?" He says desperate to let Daryl know it doesn't matter to him one bit, he'll go as slow as Daryl needs him to as long as he gets to have him in his life.

"Want to, with you." Daryl says and he's moving in close again "jus gotta take it slow, show me what to do."

"Not tonight," Paul says and he's beginning to tremble again because Daryl's lips are on his skin, scraping across his beard and down his neck. He can't help but moan when Daryl's fingers grip him tight again but he has to say this, has to get the words out so Daryl understands "I want to show you, show you how good it feels, teach you everything."

"Want ya to," Daryl groans into his neck, Paul's words sparking every single nerve in his body and he's sure he's never been this fucking hard before in his life and he can feel Paul's arousal against his own, hot and heavy and he just wants to put his hands on it "want ya to show me Paul."

"I will Daryl I promise." He moans again as Daryl bites down on the skin at the base of his throat, he's slowly loosing his resolve, willing to do whatever this fucking gorgeous man wants "but not tonight, not with everyone here." As soon as the words leave his mouth he feels Daryl pause against him, can feel Daryl's hot breath stutter against his skin, every muscle tense.

Daryl had been so lost in this man he'd completely forgotten that there were four other people in the room just next door, that they were supposed to be in the middle of a party. "Shit!" He growls as he pulls away from Paul's neck, breath still erratic and cock still harder than it's ever been "shit, fuck m'sorry."

"Hey, hey?" Paul puts his hands on either side of Daryl's face and forces him to make eye contact. Daryl's face is flushed a beautiful shade of red, eyes blown wide and lips red and kiss swollen, he looks completely wrecked already and the sight alone makes Paul's cock ache, he's going to jerk off like a man possessed tonight "it's ok, that's a good place to hit pause before I get too carried away though." He places a chaste kiss on Daryl's lips and one on that adorable beauty mark before pulling away completely and rubbing his hands over his face, groaning at how hard he is and how badly he just wants to throw Daryl down and fuck him into the mattress.

"Aunt Cecilia in her bathing suit." He says and Daryl is completely fucking confused "that old lady from the laundrette with the god awful mini skirts"

"Paul, what?" Daryl starts but Paul shakes his head, face still covered with his palms.

"That one time Trixie put her hands down my pants!" He says it loud and Daryl tries not to laugh at his scrunched up face. "Yep that worked." Paul says it with a shudder then lets his hands drop, smiling at Daryl who just looks completely confused.

"No way was that gonna go down with me thinking about you." He says nodding to the front of his pants and laughing.

Daryl laughs loud and free when he realises what Paul means, to be honest, it's worked for him too, his body is calming down, his cock softening up which to be honest is a fucking relief now that he's been reminded about the guys next door.

"Go on, have your smoke." Paul says, "I'll go grab you another beer, you don't have to leave yet right?"

"Nah, imma stay a bit longer." Reaching in his pocket to light a smoke "get goin, be in in a sec, can't promise I ain't gonna jump ya again if ya stay." He says with a smirk before taking a long pull and blowing out the opaque trails into the night.

Paul leans in and steals another kiss, brief and chaste and tasting like cigarettes and so very Daryl before heading back into the kitchen and twisting off the caps or two more beers.

He doesn't know how long they've been out there for but it's long enough to find Tara on the armchair, Abi in her lap tangled up and making out vigorously, Glenn and Maggie are sat side by side on the couch heads close and whispering together looking so wrapped up in one another he can hardly stand to interrupt.

"Anyone need another drink?" He calls out loudly breaking the two couples apart.

"Hey! Where's Daryl? Did you fuck him so hard he passed out?" Tara days quietly.

"He's smoking, Tara shut up, it's strictly PG and _don't_ give him shit when he comes out okay?" He glares at them all when he says it.

"Sure."  
"Yeah"  
"Alright"  
The girls all respond together.

"Hey man wasn't gonna say nothing" Glenn adds wearing a knowing look on his face and a smile that tells Paul that Glenn is more than happy for his friend.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at what the amazing Adele K Thomas created based on chapter 8! Isn't she fantastic? 
> 
> You can find Adele on Twitter @AdeleKThomas or on tumblr http://adelekthomas.tumblr.com/
> 
> And you can see the full screen, original post right here...
> 
> http://adelekthomas.tumblr.com/post/152936820877/this-is-an-illustration-i-had-already-started-the

 

Chapter 9

  
It's a little past midnight and they've just bundled Tara and a very drunk Abi into a cab which, Paul has to tip an extra $20 just in case one of them gets sick in the back. Maggie and Glenn have decided to stop over in the spare room and are currently making out on the sofa while Daryl and Paul stand out in the hallway, front door firmly shut behind them muffling the sounds of Maggie giggling from inside. He wanted to ask Daryl to stay the night too, but he'd already promised to take things slow and after earlier he knew full well that having Daryl in bed beside him would end up being anything but slow.

Daryl stands. Helmet in his hand, eyes once more on the floor. Staring at his shuffling feet, looking shy and awkward again. He's obviously wanting a good night kiss but too nervous to ask for it. Paul feels an overwhelming rush of affection for him in that moment and leans forward to close the gap between them, pressing their lips together gently. He'd intended it to be sweet, simple and reaffirming but then Daryl's hand finds his hip which would've been fine. Innocent even, except that his fingers push under his shirt, just a tiny bit. A mere brush of fingertips and it makes him burn white hot again, his mind instantly darting back to being pushed against the railings and suddenly Daryl is the one being crowded backwards. Pressed up against the wall with Paul plastered to his front. His helmet clatters to the floor but neither man notices. They're once again pawing at each other, lips and tongues wrapping around each other as if they could merge and become the same entity. Hands dragging underneath fabric in search of searing skin, arousal rising beneath their clothes before Paul can manage to tear himself away.

"Watcha doin tomorrow?" Daryl pants against Paul's mouth as the fire between them calms down. Their kisses turning from hot and desperate to soft and tender. Paul's lips finally placing a kiss on that beauty mark above Daryl's lip, their foreheads coming to rest together as they breath each other in.

Paul groans, explaining that he has an early call tomorrow, an interview for a magazine before his underwear shoot later in the day and he won't be finished until at least 4pm. He says he's free after that and wants nothing more than to spend more time with Daryl.

"I'll come pick ya up," Daryl says, reaching down for his helmet as Paul smooths down his hair from where Daryl had fisted it in his hands during their kiss. "Grab some dinner, head back to mine for a few beers if ya like?" He asks, zipping up his leather jacket and groping in his pocket for his keys. Paul's eyes follow the movement as he nods in agreement and smirks when he sees the distinct outline of Daryl's obvious lingering arousal.

"Come fetch ya around 5." Daryl says, adjusting himself before starting to walk away.

"Wait, are we talking suit and tie or?" Paul calls to him as he heads down the hallway, eyes fixed on the sway of Daryl's hips as he walks.

Daryl pauses. Quickly thinking over their options then says "nah, nothin fancy, wear whatever ya like." Before turning around the corner towards the lifts.

  
*******

  
His interview goes really well. Better than he had expected it too. The woman interviewing him, Jessica, was kind, funny and very chatty and he instantly feels at ease, she makes him feel really comfortable after he explains it's his first ever interview and he's a bit nervous. As soon as the interview is wrapped up he heads off to the underwear shoot. It was the first time he'd done that sort of thing before, standing around practically naked. But after having meeting Elliot and Sarah earlier in the week, it didn't take him too long to get warmed up. Plus he came away with a whole bag full of free 'samples' as they called it. Daryl had texted him around midday, asking him if he liked seafood and therefore giving him his new phone number but that was the extent of their conversation because frankly, today was kicking his ass.

He only has just enough time to catch the metro home, jump in a quick shower and tie his hair back, before it’s almost time for Daryl to come and pick him up. So when the buzzer rings hailing his arrival, Paul almost sprints to hit the button and let him in. Once again, he's hit by just how effortlessly attractive Daryl looks. God did he even try? Windswept hair, black button down with the sleeves rolled up, hugging Daryl's biceps like a second skin. Black jeans, tighter this time which was just cruel. He'd forgone the full leather jacket in favour of a sleeveless leather vest. He notices as Daryl walks into the apartment that it has embroidered angel wings on the back. On anyone else he would have thought it tacky but on Daryl it looks absolutely perfect.

"Hey, ya ready?" Daryl asks as he works his way into the room, shutting the front door behind him.

"Almost, gimme just a sec." he says dashing back into the bedroom to grab his wallet and vans, roughly shoving them on.

Daryl had been too busy being awkward again to really notice what Paul was wearing before he'd run off through the apartment, simply put, each time he came face to face with this guy he kinda got sucked into those eyes and struggled to look anywhere else but the floor. Christ, was it ever gonna get easier to be around this guy and not wanna put his hands all over him? When Paul comes back however, he notices, oh fuck does he notice. He can’t stop his eyes travelling from Paul's, narrow feet and pristine grey vans, up the length of his skinny jeans and the way they hug his thighs. Past his torso where his sleeveless tee tapers in exactly the right places. The hem caught behind his belt buckle, whether intended or not, it works. His arms might not be as defined as Daryl's own but they are strong. Wiry muscles ripple as he walks. His beautiful sun kissed skin a perfect contrast to his dark shirt. If the look on Paul's face and he way slows his walk across the room is any indication, he likes that Daryl was basically eyefucking every inch of him and that makes Daryl blush a little. Not only that he's been caught looking, but that he’s so fuckin obvious about it.

Paul does notice and he definitely likes it. For a few moments Daryl is an open book, his narrow eyes are no longer set in a scowl but are softer and wider than they usually are. The left side of his lips turn up ever so slightly, almost a smirk like he knows some hidden joke or maybe he just likes what he sees and that is what Paul likes, he can practically hear Daryl's approval, feel the heat rolling off him as he stares openly.

It’s just around the time that Daryl's eyes manage to make their way to his face that he notices Daryl has two helmets in his hand, not one and he pauses. His arm stretched out to grab his jacket from the back of the sofa, well aware of what that meant. He'd assumed when Daryl had said he would come and pick him up that he'd meant in his truck or maybe even Spencer would drive. The idea that he would bring his motorcycle to fetch him had never even occurred to Paul and he suddenly feels his palms growing sweaty, knees feeling slightly less able than they had a second or two ago and he takes a moment longer than entirely necessary to slip his jacket onto his frame. He's ridden on the back of a bike a few times in his teenage years and they had never ended well.

"You brought your bike." It was a statement, an observation rather than a question.

"Told ya I'd get ya out fer a ride didn' I?" Daryl grinned and winked, possibly first time in his life he's ever winked at another person and that makes him huff out a little laugh before heading back towards the door, Paul two steps behind him.

***

"You know Daryl, if Tara ever sets eyes on this thing you'll never see the back of her!" He says, running his hands reverently over the sleek chrome and black leather adorning the bike. It suits Daryl perfectly, it's dark and light all at the same time. It looks powerful, sturdy, beautiful but subtle and classic. Just like Daryl and seeing the man throw his leg over with ease and tilt his head as if to say 'you comin?' his arm outstretched, helmet dangling from his fingers, looking like some sort of modern day god offering a ride through the heavens. The sight erases most of the fears that were making his stomach twist into knots. That is, until he finally gets onto the back seat, sliding forward slightly as he struggles to find the right place for his feet to rest, bringing his body flush against Daryl's back. His chest presses against angel wings and he realises that he's sitting about as close to Daryl as he can possibly get, practically wrapped around him. His knees clutch tight around Daryl's thighs as he hands over a helmet for Paul to wear. It takes him a second to quickly pull the tie out of his hair, shaking it out slightly before slipping the helmet on and placing his hands gently on Daryl's hips.

Daryl tenses at the touch, he probably should have prepared himself for this a little better, hadn't even thought about the consequences of having Paul on the back sitting so close, holding him tight. He takes a breath to steady himself and is hit with a wave of something earthy and rich as Paul unties his hair. The scent from his shampoo mixing with his cologne filling Daryl's lungs and makes it almost impossible for him to right his thoughts and concentrate. So when he speaks it's lower than his usual tone because having Paul pressed against him is making him think back to that first kiss on the balcony, all hot and heavy and pressing hard into each other.

"Gonna have ta hold on tighter than that." He says turning his head back so that Paul can hear him. Hands move from his hips tentatively wrapping around his waist, almost like Paul's afraid to touch him. So he grabs both arms and pulls them tight around him and starts the engine.

He can feel Paul's gentle laughter rippling through the man's chest and vibrating through his back as they weave in and out of traffic and the smile that graces his face is one of pure joy. Riding his bike feels like freedom, like he needs no one and no one needs him, having paul pressed against him, clearly enjoying the ride just adds the perfect element of companionship and when he feels paul tighten his grip around his waist, bringing him impossibly closer he can feel Paul's excitement, can feel it pressing hard and hot into his ass and his own cock reacts to that without his permission.

The vibrations running through the bike, through his skin do things to paul, things he has absolutely no control over, being pressed against Daryl's ass, feeling his muscles tensing as they ride through the streets does things too and before he knows it his cock is standing at half mast, pressing into Daryl. Normally he'd be mortified, embarrassed that his body is betraying him in such a way but he's pretty sure that Daryl is pushing back against him, it's subtle but he's pretty sure it's intentional. Getting off the bike is going to be fucking difficult, he thinks.

They head towards the beach and after passing a tonne of empty parking slots Daryl finally pulls into one far away from the crowds, hidden in shadows, slowing the bike to a stop and whipping his own helmet off just as paul removes his.

"Figured here'd be better considerin'." He says twisting on the bike to speak but glancing down at his lap as if to point out that he's in exactly the same predicament as Paul.

"Fuck, sorry." Paul says blushing furiously but Daryl just shrugs like it's no big deal.

"S'all right, happens." He says with a grin, planting his feet on the ground "I'll hold her while ya get off." Nodding his head to the curb.

He does, swinging his legs over and stumbling a little bit as he dismounts then taking a second to adjust himself so it's not so fucking obvious that he's working his way to a raging hardon. Thankfully Daryl does the exact same thing, subtly shifting himself to make it less obvious, nervous smile across his lips.

"Well, that was interesting." Paul says teasing as Daryl laughs his little huff of laughter.

"C'mon, fuckin starvin'." Daryl says and leads them to Joe's Crab Shack. "Said ya like seafood? Always come here, best crab around."

"I've never been here before." Paul says as they wait for a table.

"S'good, reckon ya'll like it."

They sat in a booth and Daryl wasn't kidding, the food was amazing, best seafood Paul's ever had. The company was even better, no uncomfortable silences, they talked about everything and anything. They talk about Daryl's hunting trips, his art show and a few projects he has planned for the future, they talk about Maggie and Glenn, Daryl tells him about Aaron and Eric and the wedding. They spend time talking about their families and backgrounds, Daryl tells paul how he's trying his hand at creating art sculptures and Paul admits that he paints sometimes, sketches more often than not and promises to let Daryl see sometime. He tells Daryl all about the interview how the woman interviewing him, Jessica was kind, funny and very chatty and he instantly felt at ease, she made him feel really comfortable when he told her it was his first interview. He tells Daryl that she'd asked him about the kind of shoots he'd done up until now, about his childhood and growing up, what prompted the move into modelling. He says he left out the part about his parents kicking him out, he wasn't quite ready to tell the world about that yet and Daryl understood that more than he could probably imagine. He says that he managed to skillfully deflect a few prying questions about his love life by simply stating that he didn't have a lot of time for relationships right now.

"I figured you probably wouldn't appreciate me mentioning you." He says with a small smile knowing that Daryl wasn't one for being completely transparent with the press, especially regarding his private life.

"Mhm, thanks, fuckin press been tryin ta get into my bed fer years now." He laughs and so does paul because he's thinking that Daryl Dixon's bed is exactly where he'd like to be right now too.

"I can see why." He says and doesn't miss the way Daryl's eyes darken slightly at the innuendo.

They both leave the restaurant feeling like they've known each other for months, rather than a week and so when Paul grabs hold of Daryl's hand, he doesn't even flinch, just curls their fingers together and lets his thumb swirl over the skin of Paul's knuckle as he gets dragged up the road because he's just spotted a place that sells cheesecake and apparently Paul really fucking likes cheesecake.

The place is crowded, packed with families sat around tables talking loudly, the queue for the counter is heaving and it takes them a while to make their way to the display cabinets. Paul is practically drooling over all the options as he runs his hands gently across the glass trying to make his mind up before they arrive at the counter and Daryl is watching every move, every twitch of Paul's fingertips, remembering how they felt against his skin, tangled up in his hair and he can feel the heat rising in his cheeks as his thoughts flicker to images of just how clever those fingers could be. Glancing around, Daryl sees that no one is paying any attention to them so he steps right up into Paul's space, presses his chest against Paul's back and leans down pretending to gaze at the display over Paul's shoulder.

"I think." Daryl breaths into Paul's ear and smirks when he feels the shudder that runs through him "we should get these to go." From this close he can see the flutter of Paul's eyelids as his breath tickles along his jawline, he can see Paul's cheeks flushing pink with heat and the nod Paul gives him is tiny, wouldn't even be noticeable if Daryl wasn't practically trying to mould their two bodies together.

Paul buys them both a giant slice each, Daryl having paid for dinner even though he had tried to pay his half, they ask for them to be boxed up so they can take them home and when they leave, their earlier, leisurely pace is long gone, both eager to get back to Daryl's place, away from crowds and finally have the freedom to get their hands on one another.

He knows he should be nervous, his inexperience should be making him feel frightened, self-conscious and scared but he's not, he knows Paul will show him everything he's been missing out on, everything he's been waiting years to feel, knows that however it happens it will be amazing.

He knows he wants to be close to him, touch him, feel his body move underneath him, kiss his skin anywhere he can, trace muscles with his tongue, twist fingertips in his hair and he knows, more than anything that he wants to make Paul come tonight.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys take the date back to Daryl's place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * note the rating change * 
> 
>  
> 
> Hope it was worth the wait!

An hour later and they are back at Daryl's place, sat on the side of the pool. Their trousers rolled up and feet dangling in the water, led zeppelin playing through the outdoor speakers. Holding a honey whiskey each, sitting close enough so their sides are pressed together from hip to shoulder. They sit in silence for a while, the tension between them thicker than the air that surrounds them and Daryl is working his lip between his teeth. He's not nervous, he's just wondering how to move things forward. It was easier at Paul's house, easier just to reach out and take what he wanted in the heat of the moment. His fingers twitch around the glass in his hand and he lifts it to his lips, draining it in one go, hoping for a bit of courage to follow the burn of the amber liquid.

He places the glass beside him and when he turns his head he sees that Paul is looking at him. He watches as Paul reaches up to tie his hair back up into a top knot and lets his eyes roam over the long line of his neck and how his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, his hands, with long fingers wrapped around the cool glass and how his arms flex as as they move. He's never wanted someone as much as he does this man and he's about to say exactly that when Paul stands suddenly, grabbing the hem of his shirt, pulling it off over his head and discarding it on the poolside.

"Fancy a swim?" He says, huge blue eyes looking down on Daryl, reflecting starlight back at him, the grin on Paul's face playful and wicked and Daryl knows he'd never say no to this man.

As soon as Daryl stands and pulls his vest off his shoulders Paul can feel his heartbeat speeding up, he knows Daryl's seen him without his shirt on, he's got the photographic evidence of that but he has no intentions of stopping at just his shirt this time and as soon as Daryl starts working the buttons of his own shirt, bottom to top, Paul feels his face heating up and he moves to rid himself of his pants before he loses his nerve.

Then it's just him, standing in his boxers, Daryl with his shirt half undone because as soon as he reached for the fastenings of his pants Daryl stopped, frozen in place to watch. With eyes dark and narrow once more, trawling over Paul's moonlit skin.

"Fuck Paul." Daryl whispers into the night, floored by how fucking perfect this man looks. Standing in just a pair of black boxers, perfect in the night light. His beautiful unmarred skin, covered in perfectly defined muscles with patches of dark black hair around his navel and those fucking nipples that Daryl just wants to get his lips on. He takes a step forward, his own clothes completely forgotten about, eyes hungry and devouring every inch of Paul's skin.

Daryl looks like the perfect hunter again, like he's about to pounce, knock him to the ground and fucking eat him. But he wants to see, needs to see Daryl's skin, to feel it, knows that he wants to show Daryl some of the things he's been missing and he knows he's getting hard just thinking about it so he holds his hands up, palms out in front of him to halt Daryl's approach.

"Wait." And Daryl does, he freezes looking as though he's done something wrong so Paul moves towards him instead, reaching his hands out and carefully popping each button through its hole, slowly ridding Daryl of his shirt and tossing it to one side.

"Beautiful." He whispers as his lips connect with Daryl's collarbones, kissing along each one and loving the little puffs of breath escaping between Daryl's lips with each kiss that graces his skin "I want to show you Daryl." He whispers, working his mouth up Daryl's neck and to his mouth.

The feel of Paul's fingers across his skin have him rooted to the spot, when he'd told him to wait Daryl had thought he'd done something wrong but Paul's eyes are darker than he's ever seen them, he can see the outline of his cock growing harder under the fabric of his boxers and then Paul’s lips are on his skin, working wet kisses and tiny bites across his chest, up his neck and he can feel warm breath against him, coming faster and faster with each kiss. Daryl's hands fly down to his own jeans, almost ripping them open and shoving them roughly down his legs, fumbling a little in the bid to get them the fuck off which Paul chuckles at. Not unkindly without a trace of malice. In fact it eases the tension a little and Daryl gives a little awkward smile.

It's then that Daryl pauses and his thumb flies back into his mouth once more, nervous because he's got to tell Paul about his back, the permanent reminders of the abuse he suffered as a child, there's not many, he's not littered in them, thank fuck for being put into the system when he was otherwise he might have more, Fuck he might not even have made it this far.

"There's somethin I gotta show ya" he says quietly. "Remember I told ya my pa was a sadistic asshole?" He turns slowly on the spot when Paul nods and waits, breath caught in his chest, waiting for whatever reaction is coming his way. He expects sympathy, shock or anger and is ready to shoot it all down, he's not sad about what happened, he's not angry. Not anymore anyway. He just doesn't want Paul to freak out later when they're in the middle of whatever they end up doing, for it to interrupt a heated moment and put the brakes on when they should be steaming forward. What he doesn't expect is to feel hands running gently over the scar tissue, palms tracing over the lines in a soft caress, soft lips follow, kissing a line all the way across his broad shoulders as fingertips begin grip into the muscle along his biceps and he lets the air out of his lungs in a shaky exhale.

"Like I said, beautiful." Paul breaths against his skin, then louder and with a hint of laughter he says "Come on Dixon let's swim." like the scars littered across Daryl's back are completely irrelevant. Then suddenly the contact is gone and he turns around just in time to watch Paul launch himself into the pool with a shout. He laughs, loud and clear, relief that Paul just accepted him exactly how he is, perfectly imperfect,. He launches forward and follows him in.

They fuck around in the water, splashing each other, trying to force the others head under and Daryl thinks it's the most fun he's had in the pool since he bought the place. Paul manages to duck under the surface and take his legs out from underneath him and when his head breaks back into the night air, Paul's there waiting for him and pushing him towards the pools edge, pressing him against the cool ceramic tile. Hands fawn over each other, once again grasping for as much skin as they can touch, nails dragging down Daryl's back and Paul's tongue gains entry into his mouth. Daryl's palms spread wide over Paul's shoulders, marvelling at the way his hands feel so fucking big against his smaller frame. He rolls his hips forward without conscious thought and their erections rub against each other, only two thin pieces of fabric separating the two. When they catch against one another, Daryl moans long and loud against Paul's swollen lips and he almost whines when Paul retreats a few inches.

"Want do you want?" Paul says nipping gently at Daryl's bottom lip hands grasping his ass and pulling their stiff cocks together. His hands slip underneath Daryl's waistband and he runs fingertips around to his hips, teasing the skin there and making Daryl break out in goosebumps.

"Want ya ta show me Paul, whatever ya want." He breaths back trying not to let it sound as desperate and needy as he feels but Paul's body feels better than any fantasy he's ever had, hot and heavy against him.

"We should get out then," he says with a dirty smile. "C’mon." grabbing Daryl by the hand and pulling him out of the water, up the steps and over to the wooden panelled wall surrounding the far end of the pool, pressing Daryl against it and attacking his mouth once more.

Daryl lets his hands wander down Paul's chest, brushing over his nipples as they work their way down, he's so fucking turned on by how the muscles feel under his fingers. His hands dip low and stroke over Paul's stiff length still contained in his now soaked boxer briefs. As his hand makes contact, gently rubbing against the hard length. Paul's eyes close and his head falls back slightly, giving Daryl room to kiss all across his jaw and down his throat. They're rough, desperate, open mouthed kisses. His stubble scrapes against Paul's own, his mouth leaves little traces of saliva through Paul's beard. He nips at the tender skin along his throat to the skin under his ear and he's happy to see the red tinge to Paul's neck as he pulls away.

Then Paul drops to his knees, pulling Daryl's boxers down his legs and picking up his feet to remove the sodden fabric, throwing it to one side, his hand grasps tight around Daryl's cock, standing upright, hard and flushed red with desire. Those lips are on him, planting a tiny kiss right on the tip causing Daryl to groan, his tongue licks from the base to tip before taking him into that perfect heat. He's never felt anything like it, never even close, the heat, the wet, the vibrations rippling through Paul's throat as he works Daryl's cock into his mouth. Daryl moans with each pull, grunting as Paul takes him in further and further, lapping at him and stroking the base with his hand. It's almost too much, Daryl wants to say something, to tell Paul how fucking awesome it feels but he can't make the words form in his throat. They all come out as a string of gritty syllables and curse words as he tries to keep his knees from giving out underneath him.

Daryl's cock is beautiful, thick and long, standing proud and the man himself is magnificent standing over him. Sinful noises steaming from those kissed out lips. He can't believe how responsive Daryl is, sensitive to every touch and completely unreserved with the moans and gasps that spew from his lips. This strong, virile man is just coming to pieces underneath him and it's really fucking hot. He can't help dropping his hand down to touch himself through his boxers, rutting into his palm just the tiniest bit, hoping the man above him doesn't notice because this is about Daryl, not him, right now. He just needs to touch, just a bit, enough to take edge off. He doesn't think he's ever been this turned on sucking another mans cock before in his life.

Daryl's eyes are wide, his hungry gaze is trained on Paul, taking in the sight before him. They wander all over Paul's body, drinking him in, watching the way his arms flex as they move. They roam over Paul's neck where it's flushed pink from his earlier assault. Up to Paul's eyes, so open and expressive, dark in the night and blown wide with arousal. His beard dotted with tiny specks of saliva from when their mouths had come together and kissed hungrily, to his lips. Those plump, soft beautiful fuckin lips, spread wide around him, glistening wet drawing him in and out of that tight wet heat and the tongue that dances up and down his length. It swirls around the tip and his cheeks hollow out as he sucks Daryl down. He notices when Paul's hand rubs against himself, when his eyes flutter shut at the pure bliss and he's hit with the overwhelming need to see.

"Do it." Daryl grunts and Paul's eyes flicker open again and lock with his, eyebrows slightly raised in a question. Daryl nods to where Paul's hand is still fluttering over himself, aching for some relief. "wanna see."

Paul groans loud around him as his hands immediately drag his waistband down and he pulls himself out. He brings a hand up to stroke Daryl, as he pulls his mouth away letting Daryl slip from his lips. Hastily spitting into the palm of his hand, before lowering it and spreading the wet over himself, gipping firmly and setting a faster pace than he would if he were alone. He's so fucking turned on, he wants to come with Daryl, wants both of them to finish together or near enough.

Spreading his lips back around Daryl's shaft he takes him in as far as he can manage, hand flying over himself faster now. His free hand reaches up to lightly brush over Daryl's balls before rolling them in his palm causing Daryl's eyes to squeeze shut and one of his hands to shoot out and tangle fingers in Paul's hair. Not controlling, not pushing just holding on. He is so fucking close, he can feel it coiling in his stomach, radiating outwards and down.

"Ah...Fuck Paul, M'close" he groans out gravelly and wrecked, his finger tips now digging lightly into Paul's scalp as he clings to the edge.

With a moan Paul quickens his pace, sucking and tonguing Daryl faster, his hand now furiously working himself towards his own orgasm and it's that which tips Daryl over the edge, eyes wide and fixed on Paul as he empties into his mouth with violent pulses that make Daryl shudder and his muscles spasm with each spurt. Just as the last of his orgasm drips into that wicked mouth, Paul's hand stops its furious onslaught and grips tight as he groans around Daryl and empties all over the ground, spilling over his fists in thick white spurts.

"Ah fuck." Daryl groans watching every twitch of Paul's cock and every squeeze of his hand. Even as Paul pulls away, kneeling back onto his legs and laying his clean hand on Daryl's hip to brace himself, head dropping slightly as he rides out the aftershocks.

Daryl finally lets his head fall back and his eyes droop closed as he tries to catch his breath, the hand tangled up in Paul's hair now looser and his fingertips are dancing lightly over his scalp sending tingles across Paul’s skin.

He gives himself a moment for his knees to stop shaking and his abs to relax before dropping slowly to join Paul, still kneeling on the ground. He cups Paul’s face between his still sweaty palms and strokes his thumbs through Paul's wiry beard. The bristles scratching at the pads of his digits. He pulls Paul's wrecked face up to lock eyes before drawing him in close so their lips brush gently along one another and whispers "thank you." Before closing the gap and placing a chaste kiss against Paul's red and swollen mouth, tasting the slight hint of himself.

They kiss, soft and gentle until their heart rates slow, their limbs cease their trembling and goosebumps start to creep along their skin as the water droplets from the pool begin to dry in the night air.

"Was it good?" Paul asks playfully when Daryl pulls back slightly.

"Fuck yeah." He says, laughing softly at the adorable, puppy dog face that Paul is wearing, giant eyes back to a rich stunning blue, still slightly glazed over with tiny droplets of water clinging to his eye lashes.

"You know what else is good?" Paul smirks with a glint in his eye as he stands and starts to walk around the pool, picking up their discarded clothes and handing Daryl his pile before starting to pull on his jeans. "Cheesecake!" He laughs and Daryl joins him, a full, hearty belly laugh, the first one Paul has ever heard from the man and it makes him smile even wider.

He nudges Paul's shoulder with his own, still chuckling under his breath as he pulls his own jeans over his still slightly damp legs.

"Stay." Daryl whispers as they stand bare from the waist up, he almost doesn't think Paul heard him until his eyebrows raise in a question and a fond look flashes on his face.

"Stay here, tonight, with me." Daryl says a little louder, a little more confident.

"I'll stay." Paul breathes walking forward and kissing Daryl once more. "I'll stay."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I agonized over this chapter so much, hoping it would live up to the extended wait I've put you all through with this story. 
> 
> It's by no means the last of the smut in this story, in fact, once these two get started, well it's hard for them to keep their hands to themselves. After all Daryl has a lot to learn. 
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, please let me know if this chapter was ok. If you enjoyed the smut and if this little titbit was worth waiting 10 chapters for!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm running a bit late with this one, I won't go into why BUT I will say that future chapters might come a bit less frequently for a while. Not for too long though. 
> 
>  
> 
> Just want to again, reiterate how grateful I am for the comments and continued kudos! its heartwarming!

For a moment Paul lays still, keeping his eyes closed and breathing steadily. He lies still and tries to figure out what woke him when it's obviously far earlier than he would normally rise. The room is still dark, no morning sun shines through his curtains and he can't hear any of the usual morning traffic. Movement behind him jolts him from his half asleep state and then he remembers, he's not at home, he's in bed with curled up with Daryl. Last night rushes back to him with his sudden awareness and he smiles at the thought of the gorgeous man sleeping behind him. Only he's not sleeping. Paul feels an arm wrap around him, firm and warm. Strong muscles ripple across the skin along his side. One palm spreads over his stomach muscles as fingertips gently caress him, drawing patterns over his warm skin.

Paul feels Daryl's breath tickle the back of his neck as he moves in closer, lips start laying small kisses across his shoulders as the roving palm moves slowly up from his navel, brushing along his trail of wiry hair. Daryl moves it up across Paul’s torso and starts padding over his nipple.

Paul groans when Daryl takes the nub and rolls it between his thumb and forefinger until it's hard, flicking it slightly as he lets go. He can't help but moan as he feels himself getting hard and arches his back slightly when the fingers pinch once more and a tongue sneaks it's way up the back of his neck despite the strands of hair that have broken free of his hair tie during the night.

"Morning." He breaths as his ass makes contact with Daryl's body, a telling hard length grinding slightly into him from behind.

"Mmmm." Daryl vibrates against him, rolling his hips forward and rubbing himself against Paul's ass, the quiet groan in his ear is all the promise Paul needs.

The fingers retreat from his chest slowly, making their way down, circling his belly button and tugging gently at the thick patch of hair before moving down the length of his now hard shaft, a barely there pressure that causes a shiver to run through his body.

Daryl grinds against him again, his breath coming thicker and heavier into Paul's back, teeth begin to nip at the skin and a tongue follows to soothe the bites.

God, the noises Daryl makes behind him have him leaking already, he's never known anyone to be as sexy as this man. Considering his inexperience Daryl obviously has a natural talent for this. It's thrilling for Paul to think that Daryl is testing out everything he's ever wanted to try out on him.

The hand gently teasing Paul’s cock moves even lower, tickling over the skin of his balls before palming them and moving back up to grip him hard at the base. He can't stop the tiny thrusts his hips make at the contact and is rewarded with a roll of Daryl's hips, cock brushing between Paul's cheeks and it makes him wonder what it would feel like to have Daryl inside him and fucking him into the mattress. What those thick fingers would feel like stretching him out and wrapping around his cock while they do. It's been a long time since he bottomed but with Daryl pressed up tight behind him, it's suddenly all he can think about.

He grabs Daryl's hand and pulls it off him chuckling slightly when he hears a pitiful whine, almost inaudible from behind. He brings Daryl's hand to his mouth and licks into his palm, leaving a trail of saliva in his wake before spitting lightly into it and pushing it back down.

Daryl catches on instantly and bites harder into the muscle of Paul's shoulder as he grips his cock once more and starts stroking him, firm and so fucking good. He's still grinding his own arousal into Paul's ass, rutting into him and picking up the pace as his hand twists over the tip of Paul's cock.

"Christ Daryl." Paul moans, pushing back against him harder and thrusting himself into the tight warmth of Daryl's hand, biting down on his lip as he moves and twists his own hand into the sheets they're still tangled up in.

"So fucking sexy Paul." Daryl moans into his hair grinding harder, his free arm snaking underneath Paul and pulling him closer. Daryl's breath is coming fast and heavy into Paul's ear making his eyes flutter shut at the raspy noise. "God I want you so Fucking bad right now, wanna make you come."

"Fuck, keep talking Daryl." He can't help but groan at Daryl's words, his sex laden voice, rough and gritty in the early morning so fucking sexy. All trace of nerves completely vanish in the heat of the moment. He already feels close, hearing Daryl's as yet unknown filthy mouth just spurring him on. He's thrusting into Daryl in earnest now, pushing back and rubbing Daryl's own cock into him. He can feel the wet leaking from Daryl, can feel the slide of it against his ass as he moves.

Daryl's fingers tighten around him, his other hand now completely wrapped around Paul's torso. Fingers find his nipple once more and start to tug on it, low growls and grunts hissing behind him with every roll of hips, both of their cocks becoming wetter with each word spoken.

"Ah...shit yes, want you to make me come. Fuck Daryl I'm close already." Paul hisses between clenched teeth because he can already feel the tightening in his stomach, can feel himself growing impossibly harder as Daryl's hand flies up and down on his shaft, tugging him furiously now. His groin pushing harder and harder against Paul with little aborted jerks of his hips, letting Paul know he's not the only one who's close to losing control.

The hand wrapped around Paul twists at the tip once more, the webbing between his thumb and finger scrapes against the sensitive bundle of nerves just below the head and he's there, standing right on the fucking edge, so ready to tip over and keep falling.

"Christ, fuck Daryl!" Paul shouts as his cock starts spurting violently, covering Daryl's hand in thick ropes of come, shooting out onto green sheets as his body convulses with the tremors and Daryl keeps pulling at him, fingers keep flicking at his stiff nipple and teeth grip hold of the soft skin on his neck. Daryl fucking growls against his hair suddenly. His hand grips tight around the still-hard base of Paul's cock that’s still twitching the last few drops of come out and Daryl’s own orgasm starts pulsing out all over Paul's ass, his thrusts smearing his seed across Paul’s soft skin as he rides out his own orgasm against him.

"Shit...shit...shiiit!" Daryl whimpers as he jerks and shudders with each further pulse. His heartbeat so wild and hard that Paul can feel it through his rib cage as if it were trying to jump from Daryl's chest into his.

The trembling finally starts to slow, Daryl's body twitching tiny amounts as the last of his come is pushed from his body and he pulls Paul tight against his chest, breathing heavily into his neck as they both try and calm their furious heartbeats.

Paul's hand finally loosens its grip on the sheet just as Daryl releases his cock and brings the come covered hand up to wrap around his chest, holding him in both arms. Paul pulls his own arms over Daryl's, holding him close in return, just feeling the man behind him, feeling the undeniable bliss that comes after and unexpected, explosive orgasm.

"Good morning." Paul says again, smiling and sated.

"Mhm. Think it is." Daryl chuckles against him before nuzzling into his hair and breathing him in. "Wanna take a shower with me?" He asks after a few moments. Paul had almost allowed himself to drift back off to sleep.

"What time is it?" Paul asks groggily, his voice still husky from sleep and sex.

"Round eight." Daryl says, another low chuckle following when Paul groans at the early hour. "Ain't got nowhere ta be. Take a shower with me?" He asks before littering Paul's back with barely there kisses and scraping stubble.

"I don't have to work again until Friday." Paul hums, enjoying the feel of Daryl's lips and breath ghosting across his shoulders.

Daryl grunts against him in satisfaction before shifting his arm from under Paul's body, leaning up over him and kisses gently along his jawline. "C'mon, let's get cleaned up." He whispers against Paul's skin.

Before they even get in the shower Daryl's phone begins to ring. Once he sees that it's Eric calling he ignores it, walks into the bathroom and works on getting the water running. The room is just beginning to steam up when Paul appears in the doorway behind him, Daryl's phone held in his outstretched hand, still ringing shrilly, Eric's happy face flashing across the screen.

"Sounded like it might be important." Paul says handing it over.

"Fuck it." Daryl curses, reaches out for the offending device. "Get in and I'll join ya in a sec."

"Eric, what the hells so important ya gotta call me four times at fucking eight in the morning man?" Paul hears Daryl grumbling into the phone as he heads back out into the house, shutting the bathroom door behind him and leaving Paul to shower alone.

After ten minutes under the spray, hair worked into a lather and washed clean. His body now free of the semi-dried come that covered his ass and stomach he twists the water off, wraps a giant fluffy towel around his waist and uses another to scrub his long tresses. He pauses a moment to scan across the countertop checking the bottles and tubes and steals a squeeze of Daryl's moisturiser, rubbing it into the steam-pink skin of his face before taking a swish of mouthwash and using a finger of toothpaste to scrub at his teeth. He wishes he had his toothbrush. Paul leaves the bathroom and slips into Daryl's bedroom thinking he might be on the phone still but he finds the room empty. There's a pile of folded clothes sat neatly on the bed, the previously rumpled sheets now tucked back in perfectly. Paul laughs a little to himself realising that Daryl is quite a tidy person, unlike himself. He slips into the T-shirt and sweatpants left out for him grimacing slightly at the legs that are a tad too long for him and quickly pulls his damp hair into a loose, messy bun then heads out to see where on Earth Daryl has disappeared to. He walks through the pristine condo, once again marvelling at the art scattered around and just how tidy the place is, he can't believe he didn't notice it before. The absence of any sort of mess. Somehow, despite his own untidy nature, the cleanliness here makes him feel comforted. He hears the whirring of the coffee machine as he comes level with the kitchen and catches the light streaming in through the wide sliding glass doors leading out to the pool. There's still no sign of Daryl.

"Daryl?" He calls out to the empty room.

"In here." The response comes from the other side of the building and Paul follows it, finally catching sight of Daryl in his editing room, dressed in a black bath robe and surrounded by his computers his phone lying discarded beside him.

"Everything alright?" He asks, noting the tension rolling off Daryl in waves, his shoulders look tight and his fingers are almost white knuckled around his coffee cup.

"Hmm?" Daryl grunts absentmindedly without turning to look away from the screen before him.

"Uh, is everything ok?" Paul says again, a little more timidly this time, approaching Daryl and standing beside him.

"Yeah, m'sorry," Daryl says turning to look and smirking when his eyes take in the sight of Paul wearing his clothes. "Ah, fuck m'sorry Paul." He says again with a grimace then turns to nod his head at the computer.

On the screen is a rather bright page of a magazine, blown up so the text is easily read and Paul leans in slightly to read it.

**_  
Is Daryl Dixon dating?_ **

_**Los Angeles based artist and photographer Daryl Dixon was reportedly spotted walking hand in hand with a mystery man late last night.** _

_**The two men were observed sharing a quiet dinner together before heading out along the broadwalk towards the famous Cheesecake Factory**._

_**Onlookers state that Mr. Dixon and his companion whose identity has yet to be confirmed appeared to be very cosy during their meal for two, they were then seen to be walking hand in hand to grab dessert before leaving on Dixon's beloved triumph.** (See pg 10 for details on Dixon's renowned passion for motorcycles and a list of his previous bikes.)_

_**  
Daryl Dixon's sexuality has been a constant topic of discussion over the years with never a whiff of a romantic interest on the cards for the son of world famous power couple Sebastian and Victoria Dixon. Rumours that the youngest Dixon might in fact be asexual surfaced a few years ago and have yet to be confirmed.** _

_**Could this finally be the confirmation we have all been waiting for? Does this mean that we are all out of the running for one of the most elusive bachelors?** _

**_Who is this mystery man who seems to have finally captured the attention of the wildly talented LA artist._ **

_(Unfortunately, Mr. Dixon has been unavailable for comment at this time.)_

  
"Oh." Paul says quietly. There, on screen sits a grainy, poor quality photo of Daryl and himself walking hand in hand. Luckily the picture seems to have been taken on a cell phone from behind and only Daryl is recognisable, Paul's body turned the other way, only his back to the camera as he's pictured dragging Daryl along the street with him.

"At least my ass looks good!" He jokes, nudging Daryl's shoulder slightly as he leans over in the pretence of getting a better look.

Daryl huffs beside him, turning his head and blatantly raking his eyes over Paul's ass. "Right about that." He laughs lightly. "Papers'r gonna have a field day with this shit." He says looking back at the screen once more. "M'sorry ya getting dragged inta it."

"Hey," Paul says placing a comforting hand on Daryl's shoulder. "I've got no problem being the mystery man in your life." He grins. "I'm just sorry we got spotted and they're making a story out of you."

"S'alright, press've been tryna get in my bed for years now. Just gotta keep ma head down for a bit. Something else'll come along n take the heat off soon enough." Daryl soothes as he leans over and powers down the computer before turning to face Paul once more. "How long you say I got ya for?" He asks.

"Well," Paul answers as he reaches out to touch the collar of Daryl's robe, smiling when Daryl spins the chair around so that Paul can come to stand between his legs. He reaches his own hands out to sit on Paul's hip, thumbs pushing under his hem to brush against the skin they find there. "I'm not working until Friday." Paul reminds him with a smirk. "So you've got me as long as you want until then."

"Good." Daryl grunts quietly, looking up at Paul with heated eyes. "Gonna let me take ya up to my cabin? Teach ya how to hunt?"

Paul chuckles, moving even closer and pushing Daryl's robe open slightly. Brushing his palms over the skin that's now exposed. "Will you let me handle your crossbow?" He smirks.

"Pft!" Daryl snorts and pulls Paul down for a quick kiss. He mumbles against Paul's lips "yeah, I'll let you get ya hands on ma crossbow." Then moving down to nose in Paul's beard "see how strong ya are, s'a lot ta handle."

Paul laughs and shivers all at once, enjoying the tingles that run across his skin wherever Daryl's lips touch him, soft and wet and so very tempting.

"Alright, lemme get dressed n we'll run back ta yers, pack a bag n get outta here for a few days. Sound good?" He says, pulling back to look up at Paul's rapidly darkening eyes and glistening lips.

Paul nods and steps back reluctantly, giving Daryl the space to stand up.

"S'coffee in the kitchen." Daryl says as he heads off through to the bedroom to grab himself a shower and get dressed.

As soon as Daryl’s done, dressed in a pair of khakis and a sleeveless button down he saves for hunting, he sits Paul down at the breakfast bar and serves them both a bowl of cereal and a fresh cup of coffee each.

"Eric wants to meet ya, Aaron too." Daryl says between mouthfuls. "Think they thought I'd never be interested in anyone."

Paul feels his face heating up at the compliment, it's hard to believe that Daryl truly hadn't ever been interested in someone before him and he feels, something. Flattered? Possibly. He smiles fondly at Daryl for a moment, just admiring his face and his honest eyes.

"I'd love to meet them." He says finally looking down towards his empty bowl suddenly feeling a little self conscious.

"C'mon, got work to do if we're gonna get ta the cabin sometime today." Daryl soothes seeing Paul's sudden shyness. He grabs up Paul's dishes along with his own and starts to wash them by hand.

Paul laughs behind him and he turns to look, scowling softly at the look on Paul's face. "What's so funny?"

"You're a bit of a neat freak aren't you?" Paul jibes, chuckling still.

"Hmm, suppose, old habits. Plus I don't like ta leave too much fer Marie to do." He replies as he stacks the dishes on the drainer to air dry.

"Marie?" Paul quirks an eyebrow at him.

"Cleaner." Daryl grunts, wiping his hands dry on a dishtowel "good old girl, works too hard." He adds. "Why dontcha go sit out by the pool, I gotta pack a bag n get the truck ready. Give ya a shout when I'm done?"

Paul smiles because Daryl's tender side is slipping out once more. He nods and heads out just as Daryl suggests, laying on one of the loungers and letting his eyes close, just listening to the sounds of the birds and the breeze running through the trees. The lapping of the water as it gently taps against the edge of the pool with the tender wind and the sounds of Daryl busying around in the house behind him. Feeling warm and comforted. Completely at peace and looking forward to spending a few days away from the city, away from people and completely alone with Daryl.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day at the cabin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack I'm so sorry this is stupidly late but I did warn you that the next few chapters may take a little longer. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also this chapter is far from my best work but I swear it battled me like you would not believe! 
> 
> Fear not friends the following chapter is already partially written and we are steadily heading for our conclusion!

They'd left Daryl's place as soon as he'd thrown everything into the truck and headed downtown to make a stop at Paul's apartment so he could grab some clothes and bits he would need for the few days he'd be away. Daryl had snorted as he watched Paul pack his bags throwing in completely inappropriate skinny jeans and white shirts. 

"Ain't ya got anything, well less smart?" Daryl had chuckled then laughed even harder when Paul looked confused. "We ain't goin out ta fancy restaurants, gonna need something ya can move in something ya can get dirty. Skinny jeans ain't gonna let ya move through the forest right." So Paul had opened his wardrobe and stood back as Daryl helped himself to his clothes, essentially packing his bags for him with clothes that he deemed suitable for running around the forest floor day and night. 

The cabin is set deep into the sprawling woods with the nearest neighbour nowhere in sight, just the clear spring water creek that roams from the front of the building all the way around the right hand side and off into the distance before it disappears into the dense tree line. Standing beside the truck, Daryl breaths in the clean crisp air of the forest. It's the noise that Daryl loves the most, the soft hum of the leaves as they're touched by the breeze winding its way through the treetops. The gentle music of the creek as the water rushes swift and true across the rocks and pebbles that line the edges and the bottom. The cacophony of birdsong that echoes through the open spaces, a multitude of songs, each one individually beautiful all joining together to create an orchestra fit for a concert hall. Daryl stands with his back against the truck, leaning heavily on the side with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes trained on Paul's face just watching as he takes in the sights and smells of the forest for himself. 

Daryl smiles at the wonder in Paul's eyes as his gaze roams over the exterior of the cabin. It's made of wood of course, huge logs make up the majority of the structure along the front porch, wide windows adorn every side and give a hint of what awaits them inside. There's a chimney breast on one side made of rustic grey stone giving the place a decidedly Swedish feel, flowers and climbing plants surround the cabin and creep around a wood shed that stands to one side. 

"Wanna see inside?" Daryl asks, still smiling as Paul turns back to look at him. 

"Yeah, yeah I do. Christ Daryl this place is like something out of a Christmas catalogue." Paul laughs as he walks over to help Daryl unload the truck. They grab a bag each, Daryl shouldering his crossbow with ease and Paul snatching up the cooler they'd filled up with beer, leaving the other for Daryl to take. They've brought enough food to see them over the few days they'll be here, having stopped off at a smaller chain supermarket on the outskirts of the closest town, they had no intention of being spotted out today of all days, not after what they had discovered that morning. Daryl wouldn't normally bring quite so much food or this much beer either but he somehow doubts that the trip would turn out quite as successful as they usually did. Well, in the hunting sense of course. Whenever he came out by himself, he only brought enough food for the basics, he hunted for everything else he would need, rabbits, squirrels the odd deer. This time however he figured he'd need to bring more, especially if he was going to teach Paul to hunt and track he doubts they'll actually catch enough to sustain them. Plus, he figured Paul might not take too well to squirrel stew every night. 

Daryl unlocks the door and props the crossbow up against the wall underneath the coat rack and walks straight though the wide open space towards the kitchen, dropping his bag on the floor as he walks and starts emptying the cooler and packing the food away. 

Paul is still standing just inside the door, looking at the room around him in awe. It was big for a cabin, he'd expected it to be small, quaint, old even. This? This was a big space on the inside. The living area and kitchen all in the same room, a few doorways litter the side walls indicating bedrooms and a bathroom, he assumes anyway. There was no upstairs, just a single sprawling floor but up in the rafters was a platform of sorts, a wooden ladder leading up to a pile of rugs, blankets and pillows, like a little fort. 

Large brown leather sofas surround the giant fireplace and the huge windows give the most beautiful views of the thick trees, the grassy forest floor and the bright green glow that sneaks through the glass as the sun shines through the tree tops, glinting off the leaves and projecting the calming colour into the room. The floor is rustic wooden boards that look as though they had been carved from the surrounding trees half a century ago. Thick, plush rugs of different shades of browns and muted greens lay spread across the floor giving the place a cosy, comforting feel. 

"It's wonderful Daryl!" Paul breaths as he moves to join him in the kitchen, bending down to open his cooler, he starts handing the packs of beer to Daryl one by one working in perfect tandem. 

"Yeah, s'my little piece of heaven." Daryl says. He throws a tender smirk in Paul's direction as he hands out another six-pack for him to put away. 

Once Daryl has given Paul the grand tour he stands in the hallway leading to the bathroom, watching as Paul empties his bag of toiletries onto the countertops. It's awkward and Daryl suddenly feels completely exposed. He stands chewing on the edge of his thumb, nerves taking over once more. He's not really sure whether to offer Paul his own room or not. If he does, Paul may think that he doesn't want to have him in his bed. If he doesn't offer, well he doesn't want to assume that Paul will want to stay with him. That seemed a little forward really. They'd only spent one night together so far and they hadn't technically declared themselves as a couple. He was torn. 

"You're thinking so loud I can almost hear you." Paul calls to him, watching Daryl in the mirror over his shoulder. "What's wrong?" 

Daryl glances a look, licking eyes with Paul's reflection for a second before looking away again, staring at a knot in the wood panelled wall lining the hallway. 

"S'just thinking bout where ya'd wanna sleep." Daryl mumbles around his thumb. Still examining the wall intently, a blush starting to creep across his face. 

"Ah." Paul breaths, turning round to face Daryl. "You're wondering if I'll want to sleep by myself or with you right?" Daryl nods, feeling awkward as fuck, was he really that transparent? Looking up at Paul once more to check his reaction he smiles when he sees that Paul is grinning. "Well if you're giving me the choice, I'll sleep with you." He says wiggling his eyebrows with a glint in those large expressive eyes that Daryl loves so much. 

Daryl grunts his approval, still feeling a little self conscious, wondering whether he should ask Paul whether they were actually, god even the word sounds stupid in his head, boyfriends. He puts that thought aside for a moment then walks off, dumping his own bags in his room. His and Paul's room, he corrects himself. He's happy to hear footsteps behind him as Paul follows, placing his own bag down beside the bed and starting to unpack it with no hesitation. 

They decide to fish that afternoon rather than hunt. No point in starting a hunt half way though the day anyway, they'd need to be up and out as the sun begins to rise if they had any hope in hell of catching anything bigger than a brace of rabbits. They load up all the fishing gear into the truck bed and head over to the tackle shop where Daryl introduces Paul to Owen, who, upon seeing both men clasps his hands together with a big smile on his face and promptly produces Daryl's regular bottle of whiskey from behind the counter pushing it into Daryl's hands. 

"Owen, ain't no need ta give me it now. Ya know I prolly ain't gonna catch a buck trailin a newbie round with me right?" He says with a smirk and a nod in Paul's direction laughing quietly at the look of fake indignation on Paul's face.

Owen laughs at that, a loud, jolly belly laugh and looks right at Paul when he says "you boys take it, enjoy yourselves, it's a gift this time, not a payment. Now shoo before the fish go to sleep." He laughs again as they leave waving them off with pure happiness on his face.

As they climb up into the truck Paul chuckles and turns to Daryl with a bemused look on his face. "He always so happy?" 

"Nah," Daryl grunts "never seen him happy like that before." He shrugs and climbs back into the truck, stashing the bottle on the seat between him and Paul and they drive down to his favourite fishing spot by the lake. 

The lake itself is invisible from the dirt track, one of many that winds throughout the forest, weaving in and out through the trees. It's huge, so big that from where they are they can't even spot sight of the opposite bank. Thick trees line the entire expanse of water. A tiny island sits to one side of the lake, covered in green grass and the white dots of a flock of birds evidently taking rest on a little sliver of peace. There's a small boat far out in the distance but otherwise they see no other signs of life. 

They sit side by side on dark green, fold up chairs that Daryl keeps in the truck bed. There's a cooler filled with beer to Daryl's right and the bait box to Paul's left. Their lines have long been cast, the almost transparent strands slowly swaying with the ebb and flow of the untroubled lake water. It's serene and Daryl feels peace here like nowhere else on Earth. He allows his eyes to close, just enjoying the swaying of the trees with the gentle breeze, the comforting sounds of trilling birds and Paul's steady, grounding breaths beside him. He was made for nature, feels the connection through the souls of his feet where they rest against the soft earth. They're both barefoot with the bottoms of their pants rolled up slightly to expose their ankles and Paul catches the movement of Daryl's toes out of the corner of his eye as they wiggle in the loose layer of dust that covers the ground.

"I think," Paul's soft and tentative voice floats on the breeze and washes over him just as the warm sun does. "This might be the most relaxed I've ever seen you." Paul finishes. 

Daryl doesn't even bother opening his eyes, just lets a gentle smile play across his lips in agreement because Paul is right, he's never more relaxed than when he's wrapped up in nature. "I like it. Looks good on you." Paul continues, his voice still soft and gentle.

Daryl sneaks a glance then, only to find Paul isn't actually looking at him at all. He's laid back and slumped low in his chair, completely relaxed with his arms stretched up and braced behind his head. Daryl's eyes trace over the long lean lines of Paul's body. The gentle stretch of his throat and the way his eyelids flutter when the dappled sunlight shifts across his face as the breeze manipulates the trees above him. He catches a sliver of exposed skin where his shirt has lifted with his raised arms and Daryl's eyes are momentarily fixed on the dark hair that rests above Paul's waistband and tantalisingly dips even lower. He loves the way Paul looks out here, kissed by sunlight and the glittering reflections that glance across his skin from the lake at his feet. Completely at ease and relaxed. He almost looks as perfect as he did when they were tangled in bed just that morning. Spent and satisfied. Daryl finds he'd be more than happy to see Paul like this every single day. 

"Paul....?" Daryl calls softly watching as his lips twist into a lopsided smile. 

"Mmmm?" Paul's soft answer is bordering on inaudible, it almost sounds as if he's skittering along the edge of sleep. 

"I....." Daryl starts but stalls. Not really sure exactly what he's trying to say. In fact, he knows what he wants to ask but just not how to phrase it. "Are we.......?" He wants to ask whether they're together, a couple......boyfriends? The word sounds stupid even inside his own head, so he doesn't speak it. He hears Paul's soft chuckle from beside him and blushes, looking over at bright blue eyes that are now fixed on him a wide beaming smile flashes perfectly white teeth in his direction. 

"We are." Paul says simply reaching out and arm with his palm facing the sky, he wiggles his fingers slightly, an invitation. Daryl smiles, glad that Paul had known his meaning without forcing him to find the right way to say it. He reaches his own hand out and tangles their fingers together. 

They sat beside the lake until the sun dipping below the tree line makes it impossible for them to stay any longer. Much to Paul's amusement neither managed to catch a single fish. It hadn't made their day any less enjoyable though, just sitting drinking beer, chatting and laughing had been perfect in itself. 

"Well I never said I was much of a fisherman." Paul laughs as they pack everything away, collecting up the empty tins and slinging them into their makeshift trash bag. Folding up the chairs and reeling the lines in. "Never been fishing before in my life." He confesses much to Daryl's surprise. He hadn't even thought to show Paul how to fish, just assumed the man had already known how, he hadn't even had any problems casting his line, had simply watched Daryl's motions and copied them almost perfectly. 

They arrived back at the cabin just as the sun disappeared below the horizon and the moon began to cast a pale light across the treetops. As soon as they had stashed all their gear Daryl quickly moved to light the fire in the giant hearth filling the room with a warm glow. They both decided to have a shower, after sitting in the sun and the dust for so long in the heat of the day, Paul could feel his hair sticking to the sweat that had coated the back of his neck, the dust that clung to his feet and ankles and the dirt that had taken up residence underneath his fingernails. Daryl had shooed Paul off to wash up first, insisting on organising them something to eat whilst he cleaned up. As soon as Paul had slipped out and into the bedroom to pull on some track pants and a comfy tshirt Daryl had hopped in to clean himself. 

They sat before the fire both dressed in comfy, loose clothes, hair still damp from the shower, leaving little wet patches across their shoulders as they let the warmth from the fire help to dry their tresses. Plates of French toast and Georgia peaches sat before them as they had themselves a little picnic on one of the large brown rugs that sat framed by sofas and the fireplace. They'd picked up the peaches from the store earlier as apparently they were Paul's favourite. 

Paul couldn't help but stare openly at Daryl as the juices from the fruit spilled over his fingers and down his chin. It was a beautiful sight that made Paul's insides squirm a little. A feeling only intensified when Daryl started to clean every single one of his digits by noisily sucking the juice of each one. Watching the fingers disappear into Daryl's mouth and the way his tongue lapped at them made Paul very grateful all of a sudden that they were alone. He didn't even realise that he was staring, his own slice of peach hanging suspended in the air, half way to his mouth as he watched Daryl with dark eyes. It was only when Daryl himself paused that Paul returned to his slightly scattered senses.

"M'sorry." Daryl realising his manners. At the cabin he could truly be himself and that meant he often forgot the social graces his parents had come to teach him over the years. 

"Don't.....it's" Paul clears his throat, trying and failing to dislodge the sudden tightness he feels. 

"S'rude, sorry." Daryl says again looking down at his lap before searching around for something to wipe his hands on. 

"No it's....really hot actually." Paul admits with a blush then a smile when Daryl's head jerks up to look at him with guarded, slightly sheepish eyes. 

"Is it?" Daryl asks, the shy look instantly vanishing from his eyes and morphing into something playful and slightly wicked as he lifts his hand to his mouth and starts to suck once more. 

"Yeah.......it is." Paul stutters over his words as he watches Daryl's mouth stretch around his fingers before drawing them out once more with an audible pop. Paul can feel the heat throbbing through his veins and he knows it has nothing to do with the fire at his back and everything to do with the myriad of thoughts running through his head at the sight before him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first night at the cabin. post fishing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! enjoy.....

"I think I'm done," Paul announces suddenly, pushing himself to his feet, grabbing up his plate and taking it into the kitchen determinedly not looking at Daryl while he moves. His face is bright red and he can feel himself getting turned on at the slurping sounds coming from behind him. He scrapes off the remainders of his toast into the trash, saving the last of his peaches to toss out into the woods when they go out tomorrow. He likes to give nature back wherever he can and he's sure there's some sort of insect or small creature around that would appreciate the addition of a half-eaten peach to their diet. The lid on the trash can slams shut just as warm arms wrap around him from behind, slinking around his waist and wide palms spread across his stomach as Daryl's hot breath huffs into his still slightly damp hair. 

 

"Peaches were good," Daryl rumbles into his ear and Paul's already rising arousal kicks into overdrive. They've had the most perfect day together and Paul was, until that very moment, absolutely sure nothing could possibly make it any better. 

 

Then Daryl brings one arm up to sweep Paul's hair to one side, exposing the skin of his neck and giving Daryl the access he needs to start placing soft kisses on the inch or two of exposed skin along his shoulder, working his way up the line of his neck and coming to rest just under his jaw line. Daryl nuzzles in the hair there for a moment before moving up to Paul's ear, his breath sending an almost violent shiver through Paul's body, one that makes his kneecaps feel as though they might suddenly lose cohesion and send him sprawling to the ground. 

 

"Think there's more ya gotta show me Paul," Daryl's voice is low and soft but still sounds as rough as the scraping of boots across the dusty ground as he whispers enticingly into Paul's ear. 

 

Paul groans because Daryl is so fucking good. How someone can be so awkward and shy most of the time then suddenly become this confident creature when they're alone, it drives Paul crazy. He's had experienced lovers before, ones who are completely at ease with their sexuality and take what they want but this? This transformation? This was beyond anything he'd ever experienced. It was almost as if Daryl presented a persona to the world one of quiet reservation then whenever they were alone he turned into this primal, virile, sexual being. Daryl is thirsty and Paul is more than happy to give him whatever he wants. He turns around in Daryl's arms and can visibly see that thirst, the hunger. Daryl's come alive in the last few moments, the heat in his eyes rivals that of the fire set in the hearth and Paul feels like he's melting. He pulls Daryl in for a kiss that he meant to be sweet and loving, a thank you for the perfect day they've just had being together but as Daryl's lips make contact with his own and his tongue pushes instantly into Paul's mouth all tenderness vanishes, they're left with an all-consuming, filthy mix of lips and tongues with roaming hands and biting fingernails.

 

Daryl hadn't meant to pounce on Paul quite like this, but he'd seen the look in Paul's eyes as he'd forgotten his manners and sucked his fingers clean of the juice that had coated them. It was something he did subconsciously; something his mother regularly chastised him for ever since he was a teen but seeing the effect it had had on Paul? Well he was determined to do it more often when they were alone. He watched as Paul made his way to the kitchen, noticed how he walked just a little more awkwardly and he saw the flush that quickly spread across Paul's face and down his neck. This was an opportunity he refused to let slip by, they were both obviously turned on right now, no point in letting the moment go to waste and ending up with some sort of awkward pre-sleep should we? Shouldn't we? Happen. Daryl was going to take the bull by the horns; he wanted Paul to show him what it felt like to have sex, to be that intimate with someone you have such strong feelings for. Daryl didn't want to name those feelings right at this moment but he knew that tonight was the night he wanted Paul to show him exactly what he had been missing out on. There was no one else on this earth that he had met who he would trust as much as he does Paul to take him, to teach him.

 

Daryl loves the way that Paul turns to warm butter in his arms, as he presses him against the kitchen counter. He had never imagined that sex would be something to come naturally to him, he figured that he would be awkward and fumble over every movement but touching Paul, feeling his soft skin underneath his fingers, those plump lips against his own and having that peach sweet taste on his tongue made him feel completely confident. Thinking only of all the places he wanted to touch and be touched, all the skin he wanted to lick and bite at. 

 

Hearing Paul's low moan vibrating against his own lips sends a jolt of want through him and he reaches his hands down to grab the hem of Paul's tee, pulling it up, desperate to get his hands on warm flesh. Their lips part so that Daryl can tug the top up over Paul's head and he does the same for his own before crashing their lips together once more and attacking his mouth with his tongue, frantically seeking entrance, licking his way around Paul’s beautiful mouth.

 

Suddenly they’re moving, Paul is dragging him back through the room and pushing him down onto the rug in front of the fireplace running his hands all over Daryl’s body and following them with open mouthed kisses and the brush of his tongue. He feels as though his skin is on fire, little shivers run through him every time Paul moves to a different spot and he’s gasping, his hips are lifting and his fingers are gripping tight onto the soft fibres of the rug underneath him. Paul’s finger tips trace around the waistband of his track pants, slowly edging them down and his tongue works on licking every inch of newly exposed skin as it appears. Daryl lifts his hips and allows Paul to strip him of the rest of his clothes, finding him hard and straining already. He hums an appreciative noise and Daryl flushes at the implied praise.

 

“What do you want me to show you Daryl?” Paul says in between kisses that are now peppering the skin along the inside of his thighs, working from one side to the other, from his groin all the way down to his knees.

 

“Want ya ta show me……show me what it’s like ta be with a man,” Daryl gasps out as Paul starts nipping at his thighs and his hands roam up to play with his nipples. He runs a hand through Paul’s hair and twists a handful around his knuckles as he speaks.

 

“What it’s like to be with a man?” Paul hums against his skin, moving to hover just an inch above Daryl’s cock and pauses there until he has his full attention. They lock eyes along Daryl’s body and Paul’s eyes are so dark in the flicking fire light that they almost look black.

 

Daryl groans, hearing Paul say the words makes him twitch, makes his muscles quiver in a mixture of desire and a hint of fear. Yes, that’s exactly what he wants. He wants to feel Paul inside him. Wants to know what it feels like to give himself to another person completely. To lose himself at the hands of another. “Yeah that’s what I want.” Then Paul licks at him, from the base to the tip in one solid strip and he groans long and loud at the contact. His hot mouth encompasses Daryl completely and he throws his head back, arching his neck towards the ceiling at how perfect it feels to be inside Paul’s mouth. It only lasts a moment however before the perfect heat disappears and Paul pulls back to grin at him.

 

“As romantic as doing this on a hearthrug is, I think we should take this to the bedroom.” He chuckles, standing and holding out a hand to help Daryl to his feet urging him to go first and palming over Daryl’s ass as they make their way to their shared bed. Paul pushes Daryl down to sit on the edge and quickly searches in his bag for a moment before proudly producing a tube of slick and a condom he’d packed just in case. Standing before Daryl, he places the tube beside him and slowly begins to tug at his own pants, pulling them down and allowing himself to spring free. Daryl immediately lets his hands drift across Pauls bare hips, digging his thumbs into the dip of muscles that frame his beautiful cock standing tall and proud before him. As soon as Paul has his pants kicked off, Daryl leans forward and takes him into his own mouth. He goes slowly, getting a feel of the heavy weight on his tongue, careful to mind his teeth as he slowly inches further down and starts experimentally swirling his tongue around as he goes. He’s rewarded by the most perfect moan that falls from Paul’s lips as he takes him deep within, feeling Paul buck a little and curse while he does.

 

“Ah! that’s good Daryl, so good,” Paul groans before pulling himself away and wrapping his hands around Daryl’s jaw, tilting his head their eyes can meet, both burning with desire. “too good If you want to go all the way you gotta stop.” Daryl thinks, by the look on Paul’s face that saying that, stopping it was hard for Paul to do and he feels a certain amount of satisfaction at that. Paul pushes him down to lie flat against the bed and, kneeling down he grips Daryl by the ankle, lifting his foot to place it up on the bed underneath his ass. He smears some slick over his fingers and gently reaches out to brush the tip of his finger around Daryl’s entrance. Daryl leans up to support himself on his elbows, watching Paul, watching him. “This ok?” Paul asks cautiously as he circles his digit slowly around and around, spreading the slick and getting Daryl used to the sensation.

 

“S’good.” Daryl manages in a low rumble. It is good, he’s played with himself before so he’s no stranger to the sensation, in fact it feels infinitely better to have someone else’s fingers instead of his own.

 

“Good, you ready? I’ll go slow, just stop me at any point.” Paul pauses then and looks at Daryl seriously for a moment “I mean it, you say stop, and I’ll stop. I want this to feel good for you. Want to make you feel amazing.” Daryl nods, he can’t imagine Paul ever doing anything wrong but it is still reassuring to know that if he does freak out, if it does hurt he only has to say the word.

 

“M’ready.” Daryl says and he lets himself fall back onto the sheets as Paul slowly works him open on his fingers. The sensation is electrifying, especially when Paul progresses to two fingers and his other hand starts slowly stroking up and down Daryl’s length. He twitches every time Paul twists his digits inside his body. He can’t help rolling his hips as Paul works his magic inside and out. He feels blissed out already, his heart beat is racing, and he can feel himself sweating, can feel the quiver of his thighs. He surprises even himself with the sounds he’s making as he rocks back and forth on Paul’s knuckles. A steady stream of praise and strained curses escape from Pauls lips, barely audible over Daryl’s own sounds as he stretches Daryl wide enough to add a third and final finger.

 

“You ok?” Paul asks as he works his way in. Daryl can hardly make his mouth work long enough to form the words that Paul wants to hear and when he doesn’t answer Paul pauses and runs a soothing palm up and down his thigh.

 

“S’good,” Daryl manages to whisper out between clenched teeth because he can feel himself getting close already, embarrassingly quick. His body feels oversensitive, a rush of heat pulses through him with every twist and drag of Paul’s fingers, with every pull of Paul’s hand on his straining length and he’s ready. “Paul, now.” He groans out, eyes squeezed tight and fists clenched, twisting the sheets by his side. Then the fingers disappear and he jolts with the sudden sensation of being empty. He watches as Paul slowly tears at the condom wrapper and slides it down onto himself, giving a luxurious stroke as he does and smearing the slick along the length before leaning down and peppering kisses all across Daryl’s stomach, slowly working his mouth over hips and ribs, making Daryl shudder as he runs his hands all over Paul’s back, trying to pull him closer, closer, just feeling and god, needing everything all at once. He groans in frustration, not pleasure, he’s on the edge, so very on the edge already and he’s quickly becoming desperate.

“Paul,” the single harsh rasp is enough for Paul to get with the program because all of a sudden there’s warm pressure, slowly pushing inside. He’s is bigger than the sum of his three fingers and Daryl tenses slightly at the intrusion, his breath catches in his chest and his eyes screw shut once more.

“Just breath,” Paul soothes as he reaches down and starts slowly stroking along Daryl’s length once more, thumb scraping along the bundle of nerves underneath the leaking head. Daryl breathes deeply; he can feel his muscles relaxing on the exhale and Paul groans as he pushes forward once more, inch by inch until he’s fully seated. He looms over Daryl, his eyes are half closed instead of the usual wide pools, they’re dark and filled with overwhelming desire as he stares into Daryl’s own, similarly affected eyes. He braces himself on his elbows, bringing his face down so that his nose brushes along Daryl’s and his hair falls across them, shielding them from room, creating a little pocket of reality that encompasses them and allows the rest of the world to slip away. He leans in and captures Daryl’s mouth with his own and the kiss is heated but slow, tender but full of passion as their tongues wrap around each other, teeth nip at swollen lips and they breath each other in.

Then Paul is moving and Daryl feels everything, every slide and drag inside of him. His cock brushes along Paul’s stomach as he moves and Daryl thinks he’s stupid to have waited so long to try this because it feels incredible. He moans, loud and free as Paul’s head dips down and he hears quiet curses slipping out from those plump lips that have kissed almost every inch of his skin. He grips hard onto Paul’s ass, feeling the muscles bunch as he slowly fucks into Daryl. He digs his finger nails in and starts whispering a mixture of his own curse words, Paul’s name and _morefasteryes_ as Paul moves maddeningly slowly. Daryl knows he’s trying to take it slow, control himself because this is his first time but that’s not what he wants, he wants more, he wants faster he’s ready.

“Fuck me Paul,” it comes out pained and shamelessly desperate but he doesn’t give a fuck because the noise that Paul makes upon hearing it is the most erotic sound he’s ever heard and Paul is fucking him now, faster, harder. He pushes himself away from Daryl’s body the angle changes and suddenly Daryl’s crying out and his back is arching off the bed because Paul has just found that little place inside him that he’s never been able to reach by himself, never experienced, only heard about and he feels like he might come any second. Paul is groaning, a constant stream of the most delicious noises, his eyes are closed and tendons are straining under his skin along his neck and arms as his hips start to snap and Daryl can hear the noise of skin on skin. He’s leaking so much now, his cock is throbbing in time with Paul’s thrusts, with each drag across that place inside him that just makes him want to fucking come. He can feel the heat accumulating in his stomach; can feel himself getting impossibly harder. His muscles are tensing and he can’t seem to take on enough oxygen to say what he wants to, can’t seem to make his arms move from Paul’s body so that they can take himself in his hand and tip over that edge.

It’s when Paul moans during a particularly hard and deep thrust, when he says “shit Daryl you are so fucking perfect.” That Daryl loses it his back arches again and he can feel it coming, sweeping over him, blinding him without reason and he knows he’s close, desperately hanging onto the edge of a cliff, pleasure ripping through him in jarring waves, threatening to drown him.

“M’close, ah fuck m’close,” He moans as his hips lift over and over again to meet Paul’s every move. He thinks he might be hyperventilating with how difficult it is to take a regular breath, he still can’t move his hands from where his fingers grip tight into Paul’s perfect skin and then, as he looks up, blue eyes are staring down at him, glazed and framed by a beautiful flushed face.

“Yes, Daryl. Please!” Paul’s words are just as breathless and desperate as his own and he realises that Paul is close too. He doesn’t need to touch himself, doesn’t need a hand on his cock at all because as Paul curses again, almost shouts the words into the room Daryl is tensing, his vision is becoming fuzzy and he’s coming, hard, harder than he ever fucking has, spilling out onto their flushed skin where their bodies meet. He cries out once again as Paul fucks him even harder, chasing down his own orgasm even as Daryl’s washes over him, threatening to tear him into pieces and scatter him into oblivion. Each thrust causes more come to pulse out and he can feel his body jerking with it. His hips fly off the bed as Paul pushes inside, deep, deeper than he has done this whole time and he feels it when Paul starts to come too. He keeps his eyes open even when Paul’s close with the overwhelming sensations and he thinks the man above him looks utterly beautiful in this moment, flushed, sweating and riding out his orgasm buried into Daryl’s body as far as he can get.

“Oh my god, Oh my…fuck!” Paul whimpers as his body convulses and his arms give out underneath him and he ends up lying flush along Daryl’s torso, trapping his still pulsing cock between them. Daryl wraps his arms tight around Paul’s body, holding him close and breathing in the sweet smell of his hair as it fans over him. He waits until Paul’s breathing starts to level out again before shifting slightly, because Paul may be slightly smaller than him but he’s fucking heavy still. Paul gets the hint pretty quickly and chuckles into Daryl’s chest before slowly, carefully, pulling away, slipping out of Daryl’s thoroughly sensitive body and falls onto the bed beside him. Chest still heaving, eyes closed and a giant grin plastered across his face. Daryl is suddenly overwhelmed with the sight of this beautiful man who he has just trusted enough to take his virginity, to show him what it feels like to be with another person, to give everything to them in the most vulnerable way. He strokes a hand up and down Paul’s side and thinks that there isn’t another person on the planet he would rather have done this with.

“Thank you.” He whispers into Paul’s ear as he rolls over and wraps himself around Paul’s body, lightly brushing his palm across his flushed skin and softly kissing the skin across his shoulder.

“Was it how you thought it’d be?” Paul’s soft voice asks even as he moves to rid himself of the condom before turning onto his side so that Daryl can wrap around behind him and encompass him in strong arms.

“Better. Shit I never thought…..” He lets the words trail off because as Paul hums a response. He can’t voice exactly how he feels, he can’t even make sense of it inside his own head. He’s just had sex for the first time, come without even putting a hand on himself and he wasn’t even sure that was possible. He’s got no words to offer so instead he just pulls Paul closer, burying his face into his hair and whispers “thank you,” once more before letting his eyes drift closed, sated, overwhelmed and absolutely blissed out.

Sleepily, he thinks that being caught out having dinner, holding hands and spread across the paper might just have been a blessing, rather than a curse.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh I'm so sorry for the delay in this chapter Christmas and the new year happened and then I admit I had it written but it sat in my documents folder for a few week while I got caught up with life. 
> 
> Anyway this chapter then one more following and the story is complete, I can't say these are my favourite because I had a serious case of writers block with this story.

Daryl wakes early just like he usually does, his eyes crack open and he’s engulfed in darkness. Paul is lightly snoring tangled up in the sheets beside him, pale skin covered in coarse dark hair, muscles relaxed, hair tussled and spread across the pillow in an absolute mess that makes Daryl wonder why he opts to keep it so long. Not that he minds of course, he finds that he actually quite likes fisting the long locks around his fingers. He reaches out and carefully pulls a few stray strands from where they fall across Paul’s face, moving them so he can watch the gentle fluttering of Paul’s eyes behind their lids as he dreams. Daryl considers the best way to wake him but it’s still very early so instead he silently slips from the bed, careful not to disturb the body still relaxed and snoozing, grabs up the clothes he laid out the night before and heads to the bathroom to wash and dress before making himself a coffee and heading out onto the porch to smoke a cigarette

 

Daryl spends time just enjoying the way the world wakes up around him as he sips his morning coffee. He walks around the cabin, checking the outside for any repairs that might need his attention, the log pile, making sure there’s still enough cut for the fires and he checks over the outbuildings beside the property, ensuring that they’ve had no intruders. It’s not unheard of for some of the larger species around here to break into some of the cabins, especially when they’re left empty for such long periods of time. By the time he’s thoroughly checked everything on his memorized list, walked half way down to the lake and back and smoked another two cigarettes it’s time for him to head back and see if Paul is up yet. He doubts it, Paul comes across as someone who enjoys staying up late and definitely not someone who rises early.  

 

“Hey, time ta wake up,” Daryl whispers as he kneels beside the bed where Paul is still sound asleep, gently stroking the palm of his hand up and down Paul’s bare arm in an attempt to wake him. It’s early, the sun is only just making it’s way up and over the horizon and only one or two birds have begun the morning chorus. Daryl managed to sort through everything they’d need for the day, packing a bag full of supplies for the hunt. Paul groans and buries his face into the pillow, his messy tangle of hair covering his eyes and the sight makes Daryl feel warm inside.

 

“Mornin’,” Daryl grins and holds out a steaming mug of coffee as a bribe. Paul pushes himself upright and immediately grabs the cup, bringing it up to his nose and breathing in the thick aroma before taking a sip. Daryl waits patiently as Paul drinks, blinking his eyes sleepily with a slight scowl across his brow. He’s obviously not a morning person like Daryl himself is so he gives him time to wake up, sitting back on his heels and just watching.

 

“Morning,” Paul finally groans and the hoarse, sleep rough voice puts a genuine smile on Daryl’s face. Paul’s free hand reaches out to brush along Daryl’s knuckles in a warm gesture and his fingers curl around Daryl’s own, squeezing briefly before letting go push his locks out of his eyes and rub along his beard.

 

“Better get goin’ if we wanna find anythin worth huntin,” Daryl says as he plants one soft kiss on Paul’s cheek before standing and heading back out to the lounge to finish getting everything ready. Paul joins him fifteen minutes later, fully dressed and hair pulled back into the top knot that Daryl loves to see but will never admit to. Cargo pants, work boots and a tan coloured shirt make Paul look like a regular hunter. Daryl himself is wearing a very similar outfit except his is a muted green and the shirt he wears is sleeveless, leaving more room for him to be able to swing his crossbow around in the thickets.

 

Breakfast is already waiting for Paul in the kitchen, eggs, bacon and a giant pile of toast with thick butter melting across the top. More coffee and a glass of orange juice each sit patiently on the countertop. Daryl is a natural in the kitchen and despite his indecision as to what to make, not really knowing what sort of morning person Paul is and whether he even likes to eat breakfast he thinks, by the wide eyed, grinning face Paul wears as he wanders in, that he’s managed to do a pretty good job after all. 

 

They sit side by side at the breakfast bar, as they eat, shooting shy glances at each other. Daryl can’t help but think about the amazing experience Paul gave him the night before, how perfectly they’d fit together and how right it had felt. He wonders if he should say thank you but decides not to bring it up unless Paul does. He’s pretty sure his face says it all though because whenever he looks at Paul’s face he knows he’s grinning like a teenager in love. 

 

With their packs filled and hoisted up onto their shoulders, they take a well-worn trail through the woods, one that leads straight from the cabin into the heart of the forest. It’s the same trail Daryl always starts on when he comes to hunt and he knows it like the back of his hand. They walk mainly in silence and Daryl is pleased to hear barely a whisper from Paul as he follows close behind him. Whenever he’s brought Rick hunting, it’s been like tramping around with a sixteen foot giant. Rick seems to catch every branch and twig with his heavy feet and more often than not Daryl ends up sending him back to the cabin so he can actually have a chance at catching some game. Not Paul though, he seems to be a natural in the forest. His footsteps are cautious but sure and they barely make a sound as he trails close. 

 

“Tell me what ya see,” Daryl says as he stops in the middle of the thick underbrush, he’s caught a trail already and wants to see if he can teach Paul without actually telling him. He slowly turns on the spot, facing Paul and watches the man's eyes close for just a moment before they open again, narrowed in concentration. He looks at the trees, eyes searching at waist height as he slowly spins on the spot, taking in his surroundings. His gaze drops lower knee height now, exactly where he should be looking, Daryl waits, saying nothing. 

 

“Here, there’s something here that looks like an animal’s brushed past it,” Paul says pointing at the bent branches of low-lying bush. Daryl is impressed, Paul’s eyes are sharp and he’s been paying attention. It wouldn’t surprise him to know that Paul had been reading up on tracking in his spare time. 

 

“Right, somethin’ small,” he leans down to pick at a tuft of fur that clings to one of the branches, holding it out for Paul to examine. 

 

“A fox?,” Paul asks after studying the colour and the feel of it and Daryl nods, drops the fur back onto the ground and continues into the thicket, Paul trailing in his wake once more. Not fifteen minutes later Daryl stops and stills, slowly raising his crossbow to eye level and fires off a shot without pause. 

 

“Wow,” Paul whispers behind him, closer than Daryl had been expecting, he shivers a little at the tone of Paul’s voice and the warm breath that grazes past his bare shoulder. “I didn’t even see it.” Daryl huffs, good naturedly and shrugs a shoulder walking over and pulling the bolt out of the little rabbit that had unwittingly dashed across their path. He ties it to his waist with with a loose piece of string and throws a tiny smile over his shoulder at Paul. 

 

“Wanna try it out?” Daryl asks, handing the crossbow out for Paul to take. He slips behind him and places a hand on his hips, turning him slightly so that he’s braced in the right position. Paul lifts the bow up and sights down it’s length, taking a deep, steadying breath as he does. Daryl raises one hand and helps him to adjust his grip, pulling at his elbow slightly. Paul turns his head glancing at Daryl out of the corner of his eye where the hunter is pressed flush against him. He can feel Daryl’s warmth seeping into his back, the way his hips are pushing closer to his ass and the little huffs and grunts of approval that rumble low and gruff in his ear cause the first stirrings of arousal. Hunting shouldn’t be hot like this but Daryl’s looming presence, his confidence in the woods and his strong torso pressing against Paul’s body make him lose any semblance of control. He’ll never be able to shoot the bow with Daryl so close. 

 

“You’re gonna have to give me a bit of space if you want me to concentrate,” He says in a tone that makes heat rush through Daryl and colours his cheeks, suddenly realizing just how much of their bodies are touching, out here alone in the woods. He steps back and Paul fires, hitting a tree a few feet infront of them. It’s a good shot and Daryl is suitably impressed. He stalks forward to retrieve the bolt but as soon as he yanks it free from the bark and turns, Paul presses him against the trunk, crossbow dangling uselessly by his side and runs a hand up Daryl's chest.

 

“I like you, out here,” Paul says quietly, looking up at Daryl through heavily lidded eyes and long eyelashes, arousal clear as day in pupils that look wide and desperately darkened. “You belong out here, in the woods…...with no one else around.” Paul moves against him as he speaks, a heavy emphasis on the fact that they are alone and it doesn’t take long for Daryl to understand. He glances around, double checking that they are in fact the only ones in the vicinity before gently peeling the crossbow from Paul’s hand and dropping it to the ground then quickly, deftly unlooping the rabbit from where it dangles at his hip and drops it atop his bow. 

 

Before Daryl can even blink Paul is on him, claiming his mouth with a rush of desperate lust, tongue hot and searching as it delves past his lips and catches against his own. Paul’s hands waste no time in clawing at his sides and Daryl responds in kind, pulling Paul flush against him by his belt loops and rolling his hips, sucking down the sharp exhale of breath against his lips. He can feel them both swelling rapidly beneath their clothes and his eyes fall closed as Paul’s lips work against his own. It’s rough and visceral, the way they move against one another, all teeth and tongues and dizzying breaths that struggle to drag enough oxygen into their lungs. Hearts flying wildly and nails digging into layers of clothing that really is cumbersome and completely in the way, but they’re out in the open and there’s no way either of them are prepared to strip down to nothing and fuck right here on the forest floor. Daryl grunts as Paul presses him even further into the tree, and heavy against his own desperately stiff cock. His lips untangle from Paul’s and he allows his head to fall back against the bark for a moment, just while he tries to catch enough breath to be able to form the words that might encourage Paul back to the cabin. They never come, however, because as soon as he has the space to move Paul’s hands are frantically working at opening Daryl's fastenings and pulling his swollen cock out into the morning air. Daryl looks down and starts to object but Paul’s tearing his own pants open and Daryl’s eyes are fixed on the movements of his fist as he gives himself a long, rough tug before falling against Daryl once more. 

 

They rut against each other right there out in the open for the world and all its animals to see and Daryl doesn’t have a care in the world, not when Paul takes them both in hand and begins to stroke them together. Flesh against flesh, wet and sliding and Daryl is just holding on, a litany of senseless groans and gasps falling from his lips curling in the air between them and mixing with Paul’s own desperate moans and curses. The sounds echo through the forest around them and hearing their own noises reverberating back to them from the empty spaces just pushes Daryl that little bit closer to the edge he’s already fast approaching. Paul’s lips are working a steady path along his neck and jawline, nipping, tongue jutting out as he goes sending shivers and electrical waves across Daryl’s skin. He grabs hold of Paul’s ass and pulls him impossibly closer, growling low in his throat as he does. Paul moves faster, tightens his grip and grinds against him, their cocks catching and rubbing along each other harder, soft skin giving way to bundled nerves that light up like comets in the night sky.  

 

“Paul…….Paul,” Daryl means to say so much more,  _ harderfastermoreyesyesyes  _ but his brain has lost all connections with his vocal cords and instead everything just comes out as a feral snarl, rippling out through his hoarse throat as he feels himself tighten, throbbing and his hips stutter once before Paul’s groaning and his teeth latch onto Daryl’s collarbone, other hand rising up to claw at his shoulder and Daryl flies over the edge with knees that no longer have any interest in holding him upright, fingers that have gone numb and a heart that tries to shatter itself against the bare bones that cage it in his chest. He’s spilling out, pulsing and throbbing all over Paul’s fist and OH FUCK Paul let’s go of his still twitching cock and spreads Daryl's come down his own length to use as lubricant, still pressing in close and kissing all the skin he can around Daryl’s shirt collar as he fists himself furiously. Daryl considers batting Paul’s hand away and finishing him off but before his hands have the time to make their way to take control Paul is cursing loudly and coming all over Daryl’s slowly softening cock, the thick hair that surrounds it catches the sticky white fluid as it spurts from Paul’s body violently. 

 

Daryl pulls Paul into his body and wraps his arms around his back, holding him close as Paul’s body shudders with the dregs of his release. Paul’s lips connects with his once more and they do nothing but pant into each others mouths for a few moments before he pulls back again. Daryl plants a kiss on Paul’s head and tightens his hold on him, not wanting the moment to end just yet. Not yet. 

 

“Think I like ya out here too,” Daryl grins against Paul’s hair and rubs his palms over his back soothing the tremors as their heartbeats fall back into a steadier rhythm. “Pretty sure we scared all the game off fer miles though.”

 

Paul chuckles against him just before dropping his hand and reaching around to pull the limp rag from Daryl’s back pocket and moving to wipe the traces of their crazy five minutes from their skin. “Worth it though, don’t you think?” He grins, stepping back and fastening his pants once more just as Daryl does the same. 

 

“Mhm, much better’n gutting a buck in the heat, c’mon ain’t gonna catch nothin now. S’just take a walk.” Daryl motions his head towards a clearer, wider trail that runs to the south of them, one that he knows will eventually lead them to a nice rocky hill with the perfect spot at the top to sit, eat and look over the land in peace and quiet and he wants nothing more right now than to just relax with Paul beside him. 

 

They spend the rest of the day doing exactly that, lounging on the sun-warmed rocks overlooking the lake and the forest. Their legs tangled up in one another, Paul’s fingers winding in Daryl’s hair and stroking patterns across his bare shoulders, down over the bulging muscles of his biceps and Daryl telling Paul all about his life, from the moment he was placed in the system, the countries he’s visited, the people he’s met and the artwork he’s spent so many years perfecting. Paul, in turn, tells Daryl about his family, his grandmother and the place he grew up. His friends, his bold move to the city in pursuit of his dream and some of the more taxing jobs he’s held while he tried to work his way onto the pages of a magazine. It’s serene, calming, like a balm to the spirit for both men so tangled up in busy lives and flashing lights. Just to sit together untouched by the rest of the world, peaceful and alone tangling themselves further, twining their lives together. 

 

Night begins to fall slowly and they’ve wasted the entire day just being together and watching as the clouds roll past. Perfectly framed in the place that Daryl feels the most at home, surrounded by the forest and the loud songs the birds trill as they fly overhead. Daryl stands and pulls Paul to his feet, stretching out their muscles before they begin their way back down, quickly finding the trail that will lead them back to the cabin before the sky darkens too much for them to find their way. To Paul’s amazement, Daryl manages to snag another four rabbits on their way home, his stealth and sharp senses keeping him on his toes and allowing him to fire each shot with impeccable precision. They make it back just as the moon begins to light the forest around them and Paul wonders whether he’ll ever want to head back to the city. Imagines what it would be like to live out here in the middle of nowhere, just Daryl and him hunting through the daylight and laying each other down on the soft forest floor. Returning home to a warmly lit cabin to worship each other until dawn breaks again. He thinks it might be his version of heaven and wonders whether Daryl feels the same. 


	15. Chapter 15

“Hey, come on stop fidgeting.” Paul says tugging Daryl’s hand away from his face where the skin along the side of his thumb is taking a thorough beating between sharp white teeth. Daryl is nervous, Paul can feel the tension rolling off him in waves and he knows theres nothing he can possibly say to calm his fears, they just need to get this day over and done with. “It’ll be fine, it’s going to be a perfect day and you look good.” He says with a leer, once again letting his eyes rake over Daryl’s broad shoulders that are currently contained by a sleek black tuxedo. A white dress shirt hides underneath topped off with a beautifully tied pale blue cravat that sets Daryl’s eyes off perfectly. The outfit costs more than Paul cares to even think about, he’d nearly had a heart attack when Daryl had called him up, begging him to come to his place while he tried on suit after suit. What he hadn’t expected however was to arrive only to find that Daryl had arranged for a whole plethora of tailored designer suits to be delivered for them both to pick from. Daryl had held out an armful of black and navy jackets and told Paul pick something suitable to wear to Aaron and Eric’s wedding even though he already owned a suit that he had planned on wearing but Daryl had insisted he have something new, something designer, something that was made to fit like a glove. In all honesty, Paul had been tempted to stand his ground and refuse to let Daryl spend his money when he already had something to wear but when he’d relented and paraded around in outfit after outfit, when he’d watched Daryl’s eyes becoming steadily darker each time he tried on something new he gave in. That afternoon, once they’d both picked a suit each, Daryl had all but thrown him down on the bed and they’d had some of the most frantic sex they’d ever had. 

It’s been six months since he met a shy, reserved Daryl Dixon that first time, that one photoshoot that had changed his life for the better in every way. Daryl wasn’t quiet and hesitant like he used to be when they first met. Not when they were alone anyway. He was wildly passionate, about his work, his home; his family and of course Paul. They’d had a few hiccups in the beginning of course, sometimes their work schedules made it difficult for them to do anything more than slip in a quick phone call before having to rush off once more but they were slowly getting used to it. 

Paul had managed to push Daryl into using facetime whenever they had to spend more than a few days away from one another, even though he’d hated it in the beginning. That first video call had been awkward and stilted, Paul had tried to coax Daryl out of his reluctance but he was as stubborn as a mule sometimes. Paul laughs quietly to himself in the back seat of the car at the memory, Daryl turns to him raising a questioning eyebrow but he merely shrugs it off as a fleeting thought. He’d tried to catch Daryl on the phone the next evening but he’d had refused, instead saying it was stupid, asking why Paul needed to see him and insisting on a regular voice call instead. It was only on their fourth day apart when Paul, lying in the plush hotel bed decided that there was one incentive he could offer that might make Daryl give in. 

“You sound out of breath, what ya doing?” Daryl had asked down the phone, noting Paul’s heavy breathing. He’d assumed that Paul had just finished his evening workout which he did every night when he was away and couldn’t get to his usual training sessions. 

“Nothing, just lying in bed talking to you,” Paul had said with a grin that could quite easily be heard on Daryl’s end.

“You been working out?” Daryl asked settling down onto the sofa with a bottle of beer in his hand. 

“Nope,” Paul chuckled a little, it coming out more breathy and stilted than he meant for it to. “Facetime me and find out.” He had promptly hung up, waiting for Daryl’s ringtone just a few moments later. As soon as he hit the accept key, Daryl’s eyes narrowed a bit in distrust. Paul knew his face instantly gave him away, it was flushed and working up a sweat already causing the loose hair framing his face to start sticking to his temples. He’d been slowly stroking himself for fifteen minutes before Daryl had even called him, steadily getting more and more worked up at the idea of what he had planned to do. It hadn’t taken too long for Daryl to get with the program either, one small gasp from Paul and he just knew his plan had worked. 

Daryl had been much more willing to video call after watching Paul get himself off solely for his viewing pleasure and so they’d made sure now that every time one or the other went away for any length of time to make room in their schedules for a bit of long-distance video sex. 

Over the months they’d come out publicly, they’d had no choice really; not after that first magazine had run their story. It meant that until they made it official they couldn’t go anywhere in public together. They hadn’t really discussed how they were going to make their relationship public, relying on their friends to help sneak them around to each others’ places so that they could spend time together without being hounded but after a few weeks together Daryl had insisted on Paul being a model for him once more. His camera was never really too far away, always snapping shots of Paul when he wasn’t looking, getting dressed, making breakfast; all the usual snippets of domesticity that came with being in a loving relationship. It wasn’t until Daryl's next art gallery set that Paul realized what it had all been working up to. 

As he walked into the gallery that night with Tara and Rosita in his wake, he was stunned to see that all the photos were of him, Daryl had made an entire show of him in various poses, artful displays of his hair, hands, of him sleeping and there were a whole bunch of prints from that very first shoot, those took pride of place; blown up to giant wall displays that made Paul want to cringe and sing both at the same time. He had stood there stunned while the girls grinned maddeningly at him, they were in on it of course, had probably been helping Daryl plan the whole thing. Daryl had instantly spotted him from across the room and beckoned him over, pulling him in close to his side with a possessive arm wrapped around his body and kissed him softly before introducing him to the press to all his peers and his family as his partner. He’d felt as though he were riding some heavenly buzz when the cameras started flashing madly, reporters offering their congratulations and asking questions even as Daryl blushed furiously and attempted to hide himself slightly behind Paul. 

They’d had the press practically camped out at both their places after that and had quickly decided to take an extended trip back to the cabin just to get away for a while. It had been a week filled with nothing but the two of them, lazy days spent lounging around the warm cabin, sometimes not even bothering to get out of bed for anything but the bathroom or food. Others were spent hiking around the enormous lake, camping out in a tent in the middle of the woods. Paul had even managed to take down his very first deer and with Daryl’s prized bow at that. Daryl had looked at him with eyes so filled with love when he hit his mark and they’d barely managed to keep their eyes off one another as they cleaned and gutted the carcass. It was only the fact that they were both covered in blood and entrails that stopped them from pushing up against a tree and getting each other off again.

Paul had started tagging along whenever Daryl headed to Noah’s, he loved watching Daryl and Michonne in the ring together. They both fought with such ferocity, each so evenly matched and their runs sometimes lasted over an hour, until they were both exhausted. They almost always ended up in a sweaty pile, laughing lightly while they caught their breath and Paul had eventually been tempted to take her on. He’d had his ass handed to him that day. So he’d offered up his skills with martial arts and now takes the kids through their paces whenever he has time, Daryl photographs him during his sessions too. He tells Paul it’s for the gym’s benefit but Paul hasn’t seen any one of those photos pinned to the walls there yet. 

All in all their lives had become completely intertwined, their groups of friends had merged with no issues whatsoever, Maggie and Glenn leading the way with their solid relationship that was absolutely going to last the distance. Rick and Michonne had been out on a few dates after a particularly lively party Tara had thrown at Paul’s place one night. Daryl had actually come across the two sharing a tentative kiss out on the balcony when he’d headed out for a smoke. When he’d headed back in and Paul caught the look on his face he had thought something was terribly wrong, until Daryl explained what he’d seen. They were a good match, Rick needed someone strong and loyal and Michonne needed the same. It wouldn’t surprise Paul at all if those two became just as close as Maggie and Glenn in the near future. 

Daryl had introduced Paul to his parents as his partner, not just the model that Sebastian had met that one fateful day and of course, they loved him. Welcomed him into their lives with open arms and even after such a short amount of time Paul already felt like they were family. It was wonderful for him to experience parents that loved their child regardless of his sexuality and it amused him that Victoria repeatedly insisted on helping Paul to redecorate his apartment. He hasn’t taken her up on her offer just yet however. 

Paul had yet to take Daryl back home to meet his grandma but they were planning to head over sometime around christmas and Paul couldn’t be more excited for them to meet. Daryl’s shyness shouldn’t be a problem, his grandma could get anyone to open up to her no matter how reserved they were. Something to do with her amazing cooking skills no doubt. 

So now here they are, in the back of a sleek black mercedes, Spencer at the wheel once more, making their way across town to watch Daryl’s best friends get married. Daryl looks like an absolute vision in his suit. Paul will never get tired of seeing his man dressed up like this and he knows that he’s not the only one. He mostly feels the need to stand almost possessively close to Daryl these days, ever since the news regarding his sexuality hit the stands he’s gained an awful lot of interest from an awful lot of men. Not tonight however, Paul doesn’t need to worry about it tonight, everyone at the wedding knows them both, knows that they are together so he knows he can relax and just enjoy the night. 

“No fuckin idea why they asked me to make a damn speech,” Daryl grumbles beside him while picking at imaginary fluff on his cuff and staring out of the window, probably so Paul can’t see him worrying at his lips. 

“You know why they asked you and stop worrying, I’ve heard that speech so many times I could give it myself, it’s perfect. Trust me,” Paul tugs at his arm, forcing him to turn around and leaning in for a kiss as he does. He will never, ever get tired of kissing Daryl. Even now after so many months of being together Daryl still seems slightly amazed when Paul’s lips brush against his own, when he slips his tongue inside Dary’s mouth he never fails to gasp just that little bit, like he can’t believe Paul would want to kiss him like that. It takes all of Paul’s willpower to not pin Daryl against the car door and mess up that beautiful cravat of his, he just looks so beautiful dressed to kill but nervous as hell. Adorable. 

The ceremony was beautiful. Held in an exquisite church that looked as though it had stood for centuries and both grooms had looked stunning. It wasn’t just the outfits they had chosen that made them such a wonderful sight to look at but it was the love and commitment that was clear in their eyes as they said their vows. True love casts a wonderful glow on those who feel it and Aaron and Eric were the definition of soul mates. They’d hired a photographer, someone Daryl had recommended and acquired for them. He’d offered to play the part himself of course but Eric had swiftly stamped that idea down, they couldn’t have the best man running off to take photos every few minutes. Daryl had brought his camera anyway and Paul is pretty sure that he really only brought it along to have something to hide behind, still so uncomfortable in large crowds and formal occasions. 

Just as he predicted Daryl’s speech went of without a hitch, he managed to get through it without stumbling, cussing accidentally or blushing madly and there were plenty of tear stained napkins by the time he was done. Paul resisted the urge to rush up to the top table and kiss Daryl senseless when he had finally sat himself back down after being pulled into a crushing embrace by both grooms. 

Then came the dancing, now Paul never claimed to be any good at dancing, in fact, despite his grace when it came to his fighting style or modelling he was actually pretty bad on a dance floor so Daryl had insisted on teaching him a few dances. It paid off tonight because after the grooms have shared their first dance Daryl quickly joins the crowd of guests and pulls Paul along with him, holding him close and leading him across the dance floor in an elegant display of finesse. For that one song there is no one else in the room, just him and Daryl staring into each other's eyes as they move effortlessly through the crowds. It’s only when the music changes to something more modern and everyone else piles onto the dancefloor that they finally move off and head over to the bar. 

Paul stepped in behind Daryl and wrapped his arms around his waist as he ordered them both a drink but not before throwing a quick lopsided grin back over his shoulder at where Paul was resting against him. Daryl’s hands came to rest across the top of Paul’s and pulled him closer, leaning against one another close enough so that they could feel each other’s heartbeats. 

“I love you Daryl,” Paul whispers into Daryl’s ear placing a tender kiss against the nape of his neck, his darkened hair still long but well groomed this evening, smelling deliciously of Paul’s own shampoo. Daryl’s response was a gentle huff of amusement and a quick squeeze of his hands. As soon as their drinks were ready and set before them Paul let go his hold on Daryl’s body and stands beside him instead, grinning furiously when Daryl's hand wraps around his waist and refuses to let him leave too much distance between them. 

When Daryl turns to look at Paul, he can see his pupils are wide, almost as though the simple act of having Paul pressed against his back has him aroused and thinking of sex. Paul almost asks him if they should find a quiet room somewhere and thoroughly muss up their expensive designer suits. He fully intended to do that at some point tonight anyway but maybe it was still a little early to go slipping off for a quicky. What he doesn’t expect however is for Daryl to turn to him and cup his face in those wide palms of his, lean their foreheads together and just breath him in for a moment, never breaking eye contact. Paul feels like he’s caught in some sort of frozen pocket of time staring into Daryl’s eyes that are filled with so many questions, so much love, trust and admiration. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t done anything to warrant someone as exceptional as Daryl Dixon to look at him like that but he doesn’t question it. Just drinks in that look as if it could sustain him for months even if he had nothing else to help keep him alive. 

“Move in with me,” Daryl says suddenly, just loud enough for Paul to hear over the thrumming music, laughter and chatter that creates a constant flow of noise around them. Still he’s stunned, they hadn’t talked about this; hadn’t really talked about their relationship at all, they’d been too busy enjoying it to worry about having those sorts of conversations. He studies Daryl’s face, reading the love in his eyes. Daryl doesn’t say ‘I love you’ very often but Paul knows he feels it, he tends to show it rather than say the words and that’s more than enough for Paul. 

“What?” He finds himself asking anyway. 

“I love you, move in with me…….please?” Daryl all but whispers against his lips.

Paul has no control over the searing kiss he pulls Daryl into. Who cares who’s standing nearby, who might not approve of the way that Paul’s hands are clutching at Daryl’s back as he pushes his tongue into Daryl’s mouth, groaning as he does because he loves this man so much more than he could ever have imagined. They stay locked together for a long time, Daryl’s hand makes it’s way up to grip the back of Paul’s neck, thumb stroking his hair line, the other holding tight onto his hip and keeping him close. It’s bad manners to leave a wedding early but Paul is sorely tempted right here, in this perfect moment. He pulls away when he’s sure he’ll run out of breath but stays pressed up against Daryl and tells him yes, yes he’ll move in, yes he wants to be a part of Daryl’s life. 

Yes to everything. 

 

Forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Although there is no set posting schedule I will aim to update this fic weekly.
> 
> Also there's no beta so if it's trash it's all me!


End file.
